


Normal

by writingisbliss



Category: Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Jucey up in here, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Graphic Violence, Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Swearing, Trust Issues, Vigilante Route (Telltale), Why the hell do people LIVE in Gotham, a little co dependency didn't hurt any one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:49:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingisbliss/pseuds/writingisbliss
Summary: John Doe comes out of Arkham ready to be his own man, find his version of normal and do the right thing by being a good little gothamite.Too bad everyone else has other ideas. Things are about to get a little crazy.





	1. Outside

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [At the Brink of Midnight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432820) by [ForDarkIsTheSuede (TheBadgeringWitness)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadgeringWitness/pseuds/ForDarkIsTheSuede). 



> I fell in love with ForDarkIsTheSuede (TheBadgeringWitness) story At the Brink of Midnight. Click the link to read the story if you love Juce (Bruce Wayne/ John Doe) as much as I do! This author is amazing. 
> 
> I really got the bug to write after reading it and this little ditty wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> A few things, this is past vigilante John, Bruce alone (still batman), and Waller up to her old tricks. 
> 
> Full disclosure the story doesn't reference the games too much but if you have an idea about Telltale Batman then some of the events/things/ plot points references will make a touch more sense. If not then no worries. 
> 
> I have all eight chapters finished and I will be posting one chapter each night until all eight are up. That's the plan anyway. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcomed.

             “Do you have anything to say for our last session?” Dr. Leland intoned crossing one leg over the other. John’s eyes flickered to the clock as he composed himself, despite the soothing atmosphere of the shrink’s office he let a giggle slip.

            Damn those nervous habits.

            “I feel ready,” a lie. He was terrified.

            “That’s good to hear.” Dr. Leland gestured for him to continue with sharing his feelings. He knew she was being paid by the hour but despite that he liked her. She had a genuine edge. He also realized that guys like him don’t come back from being who they _really_ were, even with good help. The darkness was still there, rolling around his stomach in a tight knot, begging to be let out. The pills dulled out the urges, curbed the anger and instead of holding tightly to those grudges he used to covet he let them go. He moved on and kept himself in control.

            The hypnotizing tones of Bruce’s voice helped him.

 _Keep in control_.

_I’m proud of you._

_You’re doing great John._

           Like the high end champagne Bruce guzzled for breakfast, John savored every little sip of praise. For that man he would absolutely anything. Unconsciously he licked his lips, he would do anything _to him_ given the chance. His mind instantly smacked him back down to earth viciously. _Be grateful_ , his conscious sneered, _you get to be his friend at all_. He reassured his conscious he would be a good boy from here on out. Not lustful thoughts. He could feel his conscious raise an eyebrow in his direction. He had refused to pinky promise and his conscious could identify his bullshit from a mile away.

            “You’re far away right now.” Dr. Leland’s voice yanked him back into reality. He was due for his dosage soon. He got a little loopy without the pills near his due time. 

            “I’ve been hoping that we could continue sessions.” Not a lie this time.

            “John, I am flattered but I am needed here. I heard Bruce has approached several well-known professionals.” Dr. Leland leaned back into her leather chair. John forced himself to keep from rubbing his hands together gleefully. He knew, Bruce had told him during their increasing visits. What a pal, a true blue buddy if there ever was. How lucky was he to be in his orbit?

            Then why did it hurt like a Jokerang to the chest every time he was around Bruce? Why did he feel like his skin was too tight from keeping his true feelings locked down? He was tempted to throw caution to the wind and spill his guts all over the floor of the shrink’s office. If he did he ran the chance they might make him stay and he couldn’t be trapped anymore. He had to get out, find his way in a world without Harley.

            And perhaps if fate was kind without Bruce. He wanted to stand on his own two legs. How could he even _be_ with someone when he couldn’t figure out just how to exist in a normal day-to-day basis? His palms grew sweaty and he rubbed them on his thighs at the thought of cutting Bruce out.

            “I’ve got a buddy looking into one I can afford.” John was going to look up Sneaky Pete, Lauren’s uncle from the docks, to hook him up with the neighborhood shrink.

            Dr. Leland could not conceal her surprise as her eyes flashed. She smiled brightly a moment later putting him at ease.

            “It’s great that Bruce is trying to help out but I think some distance would be good for us.” John nearly choked on the last bit. He wanted to be as close as possible and yet he knew it was wrong. His obsession was good for no one and it was time to loosen his grip on his old buddy. It should be easy. Bruce was a busy guy even without the Bat symbol lighting up the night. John knew he wouldn’t notice and tried not to feel the knife cut deep when he thought about it. In time he would forget John Doe altogether. It would be healthy, he could move on and Bruce was better off. There was always an emptiness that followed these thoughts. It was ten times worse then what he had endured with Harley.

            “I understand. This is remarkable news and I’m proud that you are seeking independence from Mr. Wayne.” Dr. Leland was practically glowing but John couldn’t bask in it. He was lying, the second Bruce turned up he knew he was a goner. They had planned his release day, anything he wanted to do Bruce would provide. If he wanted out of Gotham, he had a free round trip to Europe waiting for him. If he wanted to eat out, he had the best restaurant reservation any time he wanted it. They even discussed what time he was leaving the psyche ward. John had been vague with the details on purpose. He clung to Bruce’s visits like a life preserver and now that he was getting out it was time to find his way.  

            All he wanted to do was focus on healing. Get away from the bad stuff for a while. Keep popping his pills, wear his flesh colored face paint and dye his hair. The dye burned his scalp and the paint was itchy but he could pass as a regular Joe with it. That’s what mattered. Try and be as normal as possible. Maybe one day, with help, he might have the guts to give voice to his feelings without crazy getting in the way.

            “He’s one of a kind Doc, but I gotta do me.” John said as he got up. Time was up, the pills were due and he was a good boy.

            And good boys get rewarded. Not with handsome men with ice blue eyes and a chiseled jaw that could break cement but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers. His conscious was now rolling its eyes heavenward for patience.

            “It’s been a pleasure John.” Dr. Leland held out her hand.

            John scoffed. “No it hasn’t but thank you for lying.”

            They shook as she graced him with an encouraging smile. He was escorted back to his cell to pack up his things. Bruce had bought him a going home suit. John sat on his single bed with the creaky mattress staring at it. It was a black suit, Italian made, the thread count was ridiculous. It was boring as hell but Bruce had it custom made for him. There was a black and white checkered inside lining to the jacket to match the folded handkerchief in his breast pocket.

            _It might be normal on the outside but inside, it’s wild._

            Just like him. How in the world could he not love that man with all his bleak little heart? He put it on, savoring the silken feel against his skin. Adjusting his tie he took a moment to look around the cell and soak up all the misery. If he didn’t want to end up here again he better have his act together. Bruce deserved nothing but his exceptional good behavior after all he put him through and his kind visits afterwards.

            He could do this.

            A giggle slipped out before he cut off any more. Tossing back the pills he checked the watch on his wrist and noted the time.    

 

 

 

 

            It was raining when he got out of the cab. Taking the paper he marked up for a job search and putting it over his head he prayed it held so his makeup didn’t get streaks. He had used his real name to get the halfway house space but he was hoping to avoid notoriety.

            The building was an old brownstone that dated back to the ancient times of Gotham but it was a roof and four walls. If he was lucky there might even be a door. For the next year he was going to call this pit stain home until he could scrap enough together to buy a better place. Stepping into the grime covered reception area his eyes picked out the exits by habit and several notable security devices. The office in the back had to hold the money for transfer.

            Old habits die hard deaths. Crossing the white aluminum flooring he took a deep breath, Dr. Leland told him it would take time to adjust. He would find a routine. He kept his breathing level as he approached the desk. A women with a long face lined with wrinkles and a pinched look of disgust regarded him over round glasses.

            “Mr. Doe checking in.” John resisted the urge to grin, dizzy on the idea he could check in and out as he pleased. He had to check in with his parole officer once a week but other than that Gotham was his oyster again.

            She merely handed him the keys without a word. _Ugh, rude_. He did not like rude people.

            “Thanks,” he commented loudly before checking the key and making his way through the crumbling shack they had the nerve to call housing. The place was falling apart. The stucco ceiling was stained yellow in places, the light blue walls were patched over from various fights that occurred over the years, the floor boards were mismatched and he took the stairs over the elevator. The poor thing looked about ready to collapse from any sort of weight.

            It was hard to look on the sunny side with everything so damn bleak.  

            _It’s not all bad._ He had his freedom, his independence, and he could find normality or his version of it. He repeated this as his anger climbed. He checked the time, it wasn’t time for another dose yet, he would have to deal with this himself by using the tools Dr. Leland gave him. Breathing in and out he reached the floor he was assigned.

            Finally he came to his door, it took a moment to find it for it was laying on the hallway floor.

            For a second he stood there in shock before laughter came spilling out of his mouth. Of course his door was off the hinges. What else could he possibly expect? Waltzing into his new digs he saw the old radiator in the far corner, the dirty windows, and a single bed. It was Arkham all over again.

            What was the saying? No place like home.

            “Excuse me, you John Doe?” A young black man with thick lips and bored as hell eyes was standing in his doorway. He wondered if he was getting a shake down. They would pry Bruce’s silken gift from his cold dead fingers.

            “Who wants to know?” John shot back wearily as he shuffled into a defensive posture.

            “Some rich asshole in a Lamborghini outside. He paid me a fifty to give you this.” The little punk tossed over a phone and John snatched it out of the air with nimble fingers. “And if he didn’t hear your voice in the hour he was going to find me and charge me double.”

            John let out a giggle as the young punk swaggered out the doorway fading back into the hall. _Smart Bruce, very smart_. Then he turned his attention to the phone. It was top of the line, sleek, slim, black and when he pressed the on button the screen flashed to a selfie taken at a funeral a long time ago. Just seeing his face lifted the burdens from his shoulders.

            When it rang he nearly dropped it in shock. “Hello?”

            “Good to see my faith in humanity has been rewarded.”

            John felt the shiver go down his spine, the shark like grin he kept under wraps spread across his lips. Oh honey, that voice was pure sex. He couldn’t help how it went straight for his dick.

            He wanted more.

            “Bruce.”

            “Yes?’

            “Are you stalking me?”

            _Please say yes_ , John would kill to have that. He checked the time a second later. Still a few more minutes before the next dose. Close enough to be a little loopy and slip down the sanity slope.

            Bruce sighed. “I was worried when I stopped by and your room was empty.”

            He had stopped by and John’s heart halted at the thought. He never stopped by without calling first. Had he known his good old buddy was trying to give him the slip? Panic set in, he didn’t want Bruce to get the wrong idea but explaining himself just made his head ache. In fact a pounding mirage was edging over his frontal lobe.

             John bit his lip. “It’s not Wednesday.”

            “I thought you wouldn’t mind. I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary.” He could hear how confused his one true friend was. _Oh honey there are no boundaries between us, that’s the problem._

            “Buddy you know I love our visits. I mean watching paint dry is riveting on its own but human interaction has some benefit to my sanity.” John teased putting his guilt and sorrow to the side to rib the hero. It was their thing. He couldn’t help it for he found it was so comforting.  

            “I was hoping I could treat you to dinner.” Bruce offered as if he was just one of the guys. Not the depraved maniac who mentally stripped him naked whenever they came within five feet of each other. His conscious was holding up a big sign that said _no_. Capital N and O. The whole point of being on his own, living in this filth was to get better. Give them space to breathe and maybe when he was _normal_ they could have a casual friendship.

            If that’s what the boy billionaire wanted.  

            The scar on his hand from the batarang whispered _how could he not? You were made for him._ John shook his head to clear it.    

            “If you’re cooking I think I’ll take my chances with the street meat.” John replied as if his heart wasn’t shattering at rejecting the one thing he wanted more than the air around him.

            “That’s harsh.” Bruce didn’t sound offended in the least. “I was thinking Giovani. How does pepper corn steak or filet mignon sound? Rumor on the street is they have a dessert that could give you sugar shock.”

            “I could chew nails with you and it would still be the best experience I’ve had.” The words were out before John could snatch them back. Too flirty and sincere. Bruce paused and John could hear him shift in his seat over the receiver. Panic was back again and it brought its friend humiliation. John greeted them both with a nod gripping the phone like a life line. He silently pleaded for Bruce to brush it off. 

            “For those prices I hope this tastes better. Come on John, I want celebrate your release.” Bruce encouraged playing off the slip up. The tight fist around his heart loosened. No harm no foul. “Please say you’ll come out and enjoy your freedom.”

             John would crawl across glass to go. And that was why he should say no. Bruce deserved better than his company. After everything that happened he should be avoiding John, not seeking him out. Perhaps he was just doing the good guy shtick by checking up on him.

              He should stick to his guns and refuse but his mind started to turn against his better nature. Bruce was the one offering and it would be rude to reject his kind offer. The shit food at Arkham left little to the palate and wouldn’t it be nice to be treated to dinner? He could touch up his makeup in a snap. The glass in the dinky bathroom was still clean enough to reflect his face. Dr. Leland did tell him to build a support group of people he trusted and there was no one better than Bruce Wayne.  

            _No, no, no, this was not the plan!_

             John had to be firm. “I…”

            “We could go to Cafe Triste instead if that would make you more comfortable. I would love to hear about your first day out.” Bruce had this way of worming his way into John’s lack of good judgement. It was a sickness the pills couldn’t help with.

            Maybe one dinner wouldn’t be so bad. They could slowly stop being such good pals afterwards. It’s not as if he was getting any sleep with that door.

            “And stick me with the bill again. No way. Giovani or bust mister. I’m not one of your blond stick thin models. Prepare to be amazed by my appetite.” John’s voice was a touch husky. He told himself it was over the thought of good food.

            “Great. Come on down and we’ll go.” Bruce was turning the car on. He could hear it from over the phone and the rev of engine outside the paper thin walls. It wasn’t the Batmobile but it was the next best thing.  

            “Giovani takes four month reservations.” John reminded him as he checked his face quickly, pulse racing. His hands were even shaking.

            “Not when you own it.” Bruce tossed back.

            “Yeah, yeah. I get it, you’re rich. Now stop rubbing it in this poor cons old face pal and get ready to shell out for dinner and dessert.” John taunted as he jumped out of the window onto the fire escape.

            So much for good intentions.      


	2. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't normally dine with Bruce's friends, for obvious reasons, but someone does pop up. And the shit really does hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a set up for the next one. Please bear with me as the sugar sweetness is laid on thick.

             It was supposed to be one dinner. All of a sudden ten more followed and John was starting to wonder if he was dreaming it all.

            “How about Nicolas on 5th avenue?” Bruce asked over the phone.

            “I’ve gained ten pounds from the last meal. Let a guy rest already.” John grinned weakly.  

            “I hear they have a lava cake to die for.”

            “You fight dirty.”

            “I learned from the best.”

            The door across from his seat was fixed with a bolt lock for good measure. John was reading a book curled up on his red armchair, Bruce’s recommendation. Poetry of all things. Normally an afternoon home screamed boring but the poetry wasn’t half bad. Before he knew it darkness had come and the lamp lights were shining outside. Blue curtains hung over the windows, the couch next to him was stuffed to the brim in coziness, and the kitchen renovation was next month. The plates from last night dried on the rack. Once he found the energy he would put them away.

            The Bat Signal was lighting up the night beyond his windows.

            John did not like nights like this. “Is it Gordon?”

            “More missing people. Please promise me you’ll stay inside tonight.”

            A shiver went down his spine and the wound in his hand itched. “Someone better be watching your back.”

            “Tiffany is here with me.”

            He felt a rush of jealously and bit his lip before he said something offensive. Tiffany wasn’t vying for Bruce’s attention against him. He had to remember his best friend was not Harley and won’t put them against each other for entertainment. Despite knowing this he still felt the stabs of possessiveness in his gut. There was also something off with his pills. They weren’t doing their job and lately he noticed slowly but surely they were getting less effective.

            “How’s your stomach?” Bruce asked.

            John had managed to keep food down. He wrapped the comforter around his thin shoulders. “Better. Must have been the street meat last night. I ate some soup and so far so good.”

            “I can swing by after rounds.”

            Oh that was tempting. There had been so much of that lately. Bruce showing up at the crack of dawn to crash on his couch. Two hours later getting to his feet to shower while John made the BLTs. Breakfast was followed by conversation, all soft morning light with coffee scented air and rustle of newspaper pages turning. Then Bruce would go to work, John to his interviews or job search at an internet café. Bruce already got him the flat screen. He refused to let his friend buy him a laptop and set up internet service.

            Deep down inside he was facing an uphill battle to find a menial job. He always knew his interviews were over when they got to the large blank slate that was his last working job and the current search. The second they knew he was an Arkham inmate it was over for good. No handshakes either. A sea of rudeness and rejection. Dr. Leland had given him healthy ways to express his anger. So he wrote passages of pure vile across the pages of his journal, ramblings of a poor deluded man.   

            It was as if no one was on his side, no one but Bruce and that was the one thing keeping him from going back to what he did best.

            “Go home. Alfred will start to doubt the validity of your existence.” John had stopped trying to find independence from his best friend.

               His heart wasn’t in it. Every time they went more than ten hours without contact he found his phone going off. Text messages, voicemails, sudden appearances were common place and John couldn’t fight the deep emotional need Bruce was full filling. He argued with his conscious that it was healthy. They had boundaries and other friends but the second Bruce was on the line everyone was ditched, plans abandoned and he found himself at dinner with Gotham’s most eligible bachelor fifteen minutes to an hour after the text messages started.      

            “Alfred is still on vacation.” Bruce reminded him.

            “Some vacation. Can I join him?”

            “And miss Nicolas on 5th avenue? I take offense to that.”

            John laughed as he stood to get some water. The moment he was vertical he nearly toppled to the ground. His heart raced, he started to sweat. The book slammed into the floor loudly as he reached out a hand to steady himself.

            “Are you ok?”

            “I’m fine. Just a little light headed.”

            “I’m coming over after rounds.”

            “ _I’m fine._ I swear if I find your pointy eared cowl looming over me in the dead of night I will not be held responsible for my actions.” John protested but inside he was anything but fine. He was scared. He was on the edge, the pills, the lack of purpose, was driving him right back to those Arkham walls and he’d die before he ever went back. There was no way but forward.

            He had to be _normal_. He just had to hold on. 

            Bruce sighed heavily. “Ok, but if you need me you better call me.”

            “Scouts honor.”

            “Pinky swear.”

            “Now who’s fighting dirty?”

            _God I love you._ John let the line die and curled up again on the armchair. He was content to rest, knees pulled up to his chest. It was dawn when a hand shook him awake.      

            John gave a start before rolling his eyes heavenward. “Oh for the love of-”

            “I brought scones.”

            “Take the damn voice modulator off, it’s too early for me to tell you apart from Bane. Did you bake the scones?”

            “No.”

            “Then hand em over.”

 

 

 

           

            John lifted a chocolate fluffy piece of lava cake and nearly moaned when the hot oozing middle melted in his mouth. This was heaven. Across from him Bruce watched his reaction with rapt attention. Blue eyes reflecting the soft glow of the votive candles in the center of the solid oak dining table. Around them Gotham was a glittering ocean of sparkling lights below the balcony they occupied.

            They were tucked in the far left corner, shrouded by ivy leaves crawling up the brick keeping their table obscured from the other diners. Bruce never introduced him to his other friends or invited others close to him to dine with them. He took care to keep John away from his peer class who might get the wrong idea.     

            “So?” Bruce prompted curling his fingers around a cup of overpriced Italian coffee.

            John dabbed his chin. “Not bad.”

            Bruce wasn’t convinced in the least. “You love it.”

            _I love the company most of all_.  

            “It was pretty good but nothing like the frappe from Triste.” John remarked.

            Bruce sighed and hung his head. “I should have gone with the classic.”

            John leaned back into his chair sipping tea. “There’s still time.”

            Bruce’s face darkened as his voice dropped. “My second job might require me tonight.”

            John’s expression sobered. “The missing people.”

            “It’s getting worse. Still no leads and all trails are cold. No motives, no connection, everything is random which makes it worse.” Bruce looked out over the city, a haunted look on his face. “I don’t think we will find them alive. Too much time has passed.”

            John felt the pity for them, Gotham could be a right cold bitch. He caught and held Bruce’s eyes. “You will. You’re the only one who can. If you want to get an early start I won’t mind.”

            A look passed over that handsome face as Bruce leaned forward, drawn in John mirrored him. “It’s nice to know you feel that way, however I need to step back and revaluate. This helps me. You being here with me is...nice. I can’t properly put it into words.”

            “Remember when I said that you were the light outside of Arkham?” John should hold his tongue.

            “Yes?”

            “You still are.”

            And John could be his if that’s what he wanted.

            The words were heavy between them. John should crack a joke, giggle, do damn near anything but speaking would break the spell over them. Some moments were too honest for distractions.

            “Even after everything?” Bruce whispered as he reached out and took John’s injured hand and thumbed the scar from the Batarang softly. His touch could melt stone.

            John grasped his hand tightly. “Especially after everything.”

           Their eyes locked again. John felt the flash of heat as Bruce curled his thick digits around his hand. Thumb now on the pulse point. An ember was between them growing by the second, and his blood started to race. His mouth went dry. There was something there, that had been lurking in the background of their friendship and for once it wasn’t in his head. 

            “Bruce-”

            “Bruce there you are!” A boisterous voice made John yank his hand back and struggle to pretend nothing was going on when he knew different. The pills might not be as helpful as they were but he could not conjure the look in Bruce’s eyes. No illusion could be that strong.

            Instead of pondering on the lost moment he watched as Bruce rose to grasp a handsome man’s hand in his own.

            “Tommy, good to see you.” Bruce’s smile was a slight tight at the corners of his mouth, shoulders tensed right up. In the back of his mind John catalogued the reaction. Something was wrong.  

            “So this is where you’ve been hiding. We haven’t seen you in forever.” Tommy slid his green eye gaze over the rail thin man, making John’s hair stand on end. “And you are?”

            “John Doe this is Thomas Elliot. A school friend from back in the day.” Bruce introduced them and John’s panic started to build as he grasped Tommy’s hand. Did he see his makeup lines? Did he wonder who he was? Would he look into John Doe and connect him to Arkham inmate 326? Tainting Bruce’s good name with his own was all well and good when surrounded by the asylum staff. They signed non-disclosure agreements but out in the wild he could damage Bruce’s reputation. Wayne Enterprise could suffer a stock hit at best, at worst Bruce would be dragged by the papers.

            He wasn’t ready yet, he wasn’t any closer to normal than he had been before. God what if Tommy saw him for what he was? His throat constricted when he swallowed.

            “Any friend of Bruce is a friend of mine.” Tommy’s smile couldn’t get any sleazier. John kept his composure and shook his hand until it was socially acceptable to drop it. Bruce was relaxed but he had shuffled himself into a defensive posture. Was he afraid that Tommy Elliot saw them? A dark thought surfaced. Was he ashamed?

            _Why wouldn’t he be? You’re the Joker._

_Not anymore._

            Great he was arguing with himself and _losing_. He checked the time on his watch, he shouldn’t be this way yet. He just had a dosage.

            “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.” Tommy said. The words were cheery but they were fake. As fake as his buddy act with Bruce and yet for some reason everyone was going along with it. John was at a loss to do but follow his friend’s example.

            “No, we were just leaving. Right John?” Bruce was collecting his jacket as John scrambled to his feet eager to leave the conversation. Something was off with good old Tommy but his rational mind couldn’t sort out what.

            “Don’t rush on my account.” Tommy held up his hands as he backed off.

            “We were going to the Arboretum.” John said to cover off the increasingly awkward situation.

            “I would avoid it tonight.” Tommy suggested with a wince. “Turns out the GCPD found some of those missing people.”

            Bruce froze.

            “And?” John prompted when Tommy trailed off leaving them hanging. He seemed to be studying Bruce for a reaction to which the play boy billionaire wasn’t giving him.

            “Dead, botched lobotomies. It’s sad really. But here’s the kicker, it seems like someone was trying to plant a control panel in the back of their heads. That’s a little odd, even for Gotham. Bruce are you all right? You look a little pale.”

 

 

 

 

 

            They burst out of the entrance, the frosted glass doors banging shut. Bruce was patting down his brown overcoat. “Keys, where the hell are the keys?”

            “Bruce, buddy, what are you doing?” John asked eyebrows raised.

            “I need to get you back home. Then I can swing by the safe house, grab gear and get to the crime scene before forensic team screws up evidence. I think they’re dirty.” Bruce was thinking a mile a minute, brain jumping from one thing to the next building up facts to add to the case. He was planning the best possible route to get to the murders. 

            “Slow down, I can catch a cab. You need to go now.” John urged.

            The night was over, the mood, the intense heat from before Tommy’s arrival was gone. Buried by the corpses and murders most foul.

            “Take the car.” Bruce found the keys and pressed them into his hand.

            “There will be nothing of it by the time you pick it up in the morning. They’ll take everything but the frame. Hell someone in that cesspool might take the frame.” John joked earning a bewildered glance from his friend.

            “But it’s an Audi.” Bruce said.

            “Exactly.” John nodded.

            “I don’t understand why would anyone want to strip an Audi?” Bruce murmured to himself.

            John sighed heavily. “Bruce, I say this with compassion and love.”

            Bruce nodded waiting for him to continue.

            “An Audi is still an expensive car!” John finished flinging his arms out.

            “No it’s not.”

            “Yes it is! It’s not your normal highway chariot but that Audi is tricked out to kingdom come. They will rip it apart. Now I see a cab and you can get to the crime scene faster if you drive to a safe house.” John handed the keys back before turning him around, _god his shoulders are huge and well defined_ , and pushing him towards the parked car.

            “But I should at least see you off.” Bruce protested.

            “I will be fine and don’t think I didn’t hear your phone go off. Tiffany needs your guidance. Now go before-”

            Famous last words. The night sky lit up with the Bat Signal. Time was of the essence and Gotham needed her protector.

            “Are you sure you’re ok? Promise me that you’ll go home.” Bruce was torn between protecting him and everyone else. John needed him to focus.

            “I pinky swear. You know how legally binding that is.” John graced him with a smile. “Now go on you. I’m going home to watch Gotham Goodnight News gossip about you.”

            Bruce let out a gust of air. “Ok, you win.”

            “I adore winning.”

            “Just let me know you’re at home.”

            John crossed his heart before turning around to flag down the cab. He slid into the back seat, gave his address and watched Bruce grow smaller in the right hand mirror as they pulled away. Gotham’s first son watched the cab until it turned a corner and John broke his gaze.

            A sneaky grin pulled at his mouth. What a night, his hand was still warm from the stolen touch. What would he have said if Tommy Elliot hadn’t interrupted them? What would have Bruce done? Most of all, did he still have a chance to put the idea out there?  

            So caught up in his thoughts he gave a start when he noticed the cab missed the on ramp to the highway.

            “Hey pal, I think you missed the on ramp!” John shouted as the cab window slammed shut. The cab lurched forward in a burst of speed as fear knotted his stomach. “Hey! Pull over maniac!”

            The cabbie ignored them as John pulled his phone out, Bruce would come for him. The moment he unlocked the phone he was confronted with a chilling sight. No signal. Nothing. John freaked, he tired the doors. The locks wouldn’t budge. He tried to roll the windows down but they were jammed. All out of options he fell to his back and started to kick the window with everything he had.

            The cabby slammed on his brakes and John smashed into the hard leather across from his body. Scrambling to his feet the door was thrown open and a hand reached in to grip him by the neck.

            “And just where do you think you’re going traitor?” Bane rasped pulling him free of the cab, to dangle him up by his throat choking for air.


	3. Here Piggy Piggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John dances with devils under the full moon

              John flat out panicked, kicking his legs and clawing at the hand around his neck.

              Without thinking about it, he punched Bane in his stupid face mask and pain exploded across his knuckles. He shook his throbbing hand out as Bane tossed him like a rag doll across the dirty floor. He landed on his back, the air shoved painfully out of his lungs. That was going to leave a bruise.

              John’s head swung around in every direction for an exit. The cheap lighting kept the floor illuminated but the rest was in shadow. The cabby had brought him to an abandon warehouse. Jumping to his feet he pulled a switch blade out, flicked it open and shifted into a fight stance. His time as the vigilante Joker wasn’t for nothing.

            “Calm yourself Bane.” Waller’s voice from behind him made him jump and whirl around to face her down.

            John sneered flicking the blade left and right between his hands. “What the hell are you doing here? If Bruce finds you-”

            “Mr. Wayne is a little busy right now.” Waller smirked. “Which is why it is a perfect time for a little chat Mr. Doe.”

            “I’ve got nothing to say to you toots.” John growled as his eyes darted between them. No way out, in the darkness he could see the outline of Waller’s men fence them in. _Not fair, it wasn’t fair damn it!_ His mind howled. He had to be calm, he had to keep it together.

            “How are you feeling John? Are the voices getting louder?” Waller’s tone was soft as she hoisted a small pill bottle. John could hardly breathe. The headaches, the upset stomach, the shaking hands. They weren’t signs of stress, they were sighs of withdrawal.

            “No.” John’s voice was hoarse as he raked his hands through his hair. Precious sanity unraveling before his eyes. A month, he had been going insane again all month long. It took a month to be on the level. A full month before the pills worked their magic. He was nothing but a freak without them.

            Bruce’s heart would break if he found out. He might even turn on John, accuse him of being off his medication voluntarily. He had one person in his corner. Just one and he couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t tell his best friend about this. In that moment John Doe did the most stupid thing he could possibly do in this situation. He promised to keep this close to the chest.  

            “That’s right I switched your meds with placebos. For a man in the midst of withdrawal you are doing remarkably well.” Waller announced with glee. She was still taking the Lotus Virus to heart. If only she knew how close he came to pouring a good amount in her coffee.

            “I may be the homicidal maniac but you doll are a _monster_.” John rasped wondering if Bruce would forgive him if he stabbed Waller to death. Who the hell took a sick and twisted individual, such as himself, and made sure they were denied the basic human right to treatment? The bigger question was why?

            “Says the man who killed three of my agents in cold blood.” Waller put the bottle away. John didn’t know what killed them, but whatever _that_ was, it wasn’t him.

            “I assume you’re here to wheel and deal. So go on, thrill me with your sales pitch. Keep in mind I have a short attention span.” John scorned. Bruce told him all about Waller’s deals.

            “To the point then. You meant with a man tonight. Thomas Elliot.” Waller approached. The pills were in his grasp. All he had to do was reach out and sink his switch blade into her middle. She deserved it.

 _Heroes don’t kill_. Bruce’s voice was pulling him back from the edge. If he ever wanted to see that handsome mug again he better play along.

            “So?” John shrugged.

            “He’s a person of interest. I want you two to get cozy.” Waller took a file folder and pulled out pictures, laying them on the hood of the cab he arrived in. John saw the vibrant hair, the outrageous clothes. These people were so wild they sparkled on the photos. He also saw the blood splatter and vacant expressions. “You’re just his type.”

            Keeping a shudder of revulsion down John fingered the photos. “Aren’t you like a super 007 spy? Why don’t you use one of the goon squad?”

             “Perceptive Mr. Doe. I do have someone on the field tracking Elliot but why place my bets on one horse when I can afford to have two?”

              That made no sense but if she was going to let him walk out alive he wouldn’t take a gift horse in the mouth. He giggled a little.

               “And I get my meds back? If I get what you’re after?” John debated tossing the knife at the right angle. Hit her smack dab in the middle of her forehead. Then Bane would crush his skull or her agents would riddle his hide with bullets. Very counterproductive to his health. He scrapped the idea.

            Waller’s smile was pure malice. “Correct. However the offer is only good if you best my agent. Should they get to Elliot first, I’ll toss you back into Arkham and throw away the key puddin.”

            The nick name irked him but he held back a retort that would push Waller to wring his neck. “And just what do you want with Elliot? What makes you so desperate to blackmail me into service?”

            “He knows someone very special in Gotham and I want you to find him. Gain an introduction and once you pin point his location call me.” Waller’s eyes were stone cold. “After that I cut you lose. You get your life back, your precious pills and your sugar daddy.”

            John hugged himself. “He’s not-”

            “Oh please, the little touches, the renovation to your shitty apartment. You’re his kept pet and he enjoys you. I don’t give a shit about him or what the two of you get up too together. I’m only after Thomas Elliot’s friend. Just so we’re clear, you so much as think about telling Wayne and I will remove you from Gotham. He’ll _never_ find you.” Waller instructed as a black van pulled up to carry her away. “I’ll be checking your progress. Remember John you’re on the clock now and my agent is damn good at the chase.”

            “And yet here we are, you blackmailing me into joining the fun. Must be embarrassing for you to scrap the bottom of the barrel. I’m flattered by the attention.” John said before he giggled. His hair was a mess, his life in shambles. Bruce was so far away, to bring him into this would reveal the truth. John felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Bruce might even insist he returned to Arkham. Call Waller on her bluff and take the power out of her hands. He would, it was the only play they had left to make. If Bruce asked John was helpless to agree. Once he was inside those walls Waller would make sure he was never getting out again.  

            _NO! No, no, no!_ His inner demons were baying. He could handle whatever Tommy Elliot could throw at him. He could get his pills back. He could be normal. He could. He just had to play Waller’s fucked up game like a good little boy and then boom! He’s back on track.

            And maybe he could have another crack at the balcony on 5th avenue. The moment wasn’t gone it was just on hold.  

            “Better get a move on, our agent is five miles ahead of you.” Bane said as his escort pulled up his transportation.

            “I’m a trained short sprinter.” John sneered before he laughed. “How’s the gang treating you Bane? Been fitted for one of those monkey suits yet?”

            Bane’s chuckle was dark. “I should ask Wayne for some pointers.”

            John’s smile fell into a frown. “Stop being a dick Bane before I add a few more permanent stab wounds to your collection.”

            “Seems I touched a nerve.” The threat did nothing to deter the luchador he gestured to the slices on his back. “You were lucky and that mistake that will not be repeated.”

            John let them leave with only a middle finger salute to see them off. The cabbie was the last to pull away. His phone service was back but he didn’t call Bruce. He wanted too, he was desperate to hear his soothing tones pulling him back from the brink.

             Denied all comfort he miserably called Gotham Taxi instead.

 

 

              

           

            “-the police are still looking for clues as to how the twenty two individuals ended up in the park. If you have any information-”

            Bruce hadn’t come to breakfast and his absence was keenly felt. Loneliness was a familiar friend that kept his company as John clicked the tv off. For the first time in a month he didn’t dye his hair, it was as green as the first day he laid eyes on Bruce in Arkham. He did not dutifully apply the makeup that covered up his pasty skin. He shed all the hard work he had kept up for the sake of normalcy. He had to project the Joker if he was going to launch an investigation using his old contacts. He knew just where to start.

            Harley always told him the people were creatures of habit. To fully understand the mark he would have to do some research. He would have look up some old friends. Dangerous friends who would not be so happy to see the Joker back in action when Freeze was incarcerated, Harley and Bane Agency assets.

             Desperate times, desperate measures. The agent, whoever the hell they were was already tracking the friend Tommy knew. If he had more time he would try to uncover their identity but as it stood he wanted to wrap this up as quick as possible. Back to normal, on his pills, and maybe slipping his tongue into Bruce’s mouth if he let him. The yummy thought brought a smile to his lips.

            He slicked back his green locks back, applied a little black makeup to his eyelids-just to remind them who he was. Pulled on a lime colored button up silk shirt and a purple leather jacket. He topped this stellar look with gold rimmed aviator glasses to conceal his green eyes. Properly dressed for sleuthing on the wrong side of the law he walked away from the apartment, jumped the subway to downtown. Along the underground shopping route was an electronics store tucked in a place no one could find unless they were up to no good and looking for it. It was still there after months of being on the inside.

            Bruce had left a little extra green for groceries. Now John was using it to hunt down information on Thomas Elliot.

            “Hey J, haven’t seen you for months.” The thin man behind the counter looked around to see if anyone could overhear them and satisfied the store was empty he leaned in close.

            John slid the bills towards him. “Arkham isn’t a rehab clinic Noah. Although I do recommend the sauna. Let’s skip over the chit chat. I’m on a tight schedule. Thomas Elliot.”

            Just saying the name made his skin crawl.

            “One moment.” Noah pocketed the money without counting it. He turned towards his laptop and started typing. “New gang? Are you recruiting?”

            John was about to deny it however Noah was a gossip. He had two options, tell a lie or kill him.

            “Yeah, I want to make sure Elliot is trustworthy.” John smiled thinly.

            “Then you might want to look elsewhere. He’s in bed with the Pig.” Noah shuddered as he printed off a dossier. Birth certificates, known associates, credit card statements, home address and all the little details that Tommy tried to hide.

            “The Pig?” John inquired looking over the rim of his glasses.

            “We thought Harley was bat shit insane. This guy takes it to an uncomfortable level. The missing people, word on the street they were his experiments. They take any body, at any time, from anywhere in Gotham. The Bats after him, it’s only a matter of time before they both go down.” Noah licked his lips and John rolled his eyes.

            Pig had to be the ‘friend’ Waller wanted to get her hands on. Of course he knew Bruce was chasing this asshole down however he did not know that Tommy Elliot was a part of Pig’s kill sprees. Waller was breathing down his throat and now he had to contend with Batman and her agent. It was as if John was watching three cars on a collision course.  

            This shit show just got complicated.

            “Thanks for the tip. But you know me,” John pulled the collar of his jacket up, “if it’s not crazy, it’s not fun.”

            Then he strolled away with the print out giggling.

            Once he was out of the shop he breezed through the information. The surface stuff was press related to his charities and old Gotham money. The other stuff, the dirty stuff was far more interesting. John mentally filed away the more nasty stuff for later. He knew where Tommy was going to be tonight and if was going to catch his eye, get close to ‘Pig’ for Waller he better get his skinny ass in gear.

            The phone buzzed and he answered it.

             “I’m sorry I got caught up with work and didn’t stop by.” Bruce was cheery but John could detect the subtle notes of weariness.

             “You hacked my GPS or you would have been over last night.” John accused teasingly. He knew his strange friend well enough to guess. He was just a touch crazy to be flattered instead of alarmed.

             And if he was honest a little turned on knowing Bruce had made the effort. A naughty little thrill went up his spine at the thought of Bruce putting secret cameras in the apartment. Maybe he should offer to have them installed voluntarily. That way they could do away with the lies. Bruce could have a live video stream and check in to ease his anxiety whenever he wanted.

             His conscious was regarding him as the most ridiculous man ever. John ignored its hard judgmental stare.   

             “Well…yes.” Bruce returned and John could see him sitting in Wayne Tower, bored with business and burdened by failure despite the fact those people were walking dead regardless of what Bats did or did not do. “Let me make it up to you over dinner.”

              John caught sight of himself in the window of a tacky shoe shop. “I’m sorry, rain check.”

             “…of course.”

             “I’m meeting a friend for dinner.”

             “That’s great.” That caught him off guard.

             “It is?”

             “You need a support network outside your therapist and myself. Who is it? Someone from your Joker days? Perhaps we can all get together someday? I would love to meet your other friends.” Bruce’s invitation, his company, was always coveted. John did not want to share him with _any one._ He knew it was unhealthy but he just couldn’t bring himself to want anyone else around. Didn’t want to compete for or live in fear of losing Bruce’s interest. Harley had done a number on his mind.

             Suddenly he was hit by the last thing Bruce said. _Other friends? Friends?_

             As if the other night hadn’t happened. It had been real, the two of them sitting in Nicolas on 5th Avenue sharing a moment that was decidedly not buddy buddy. Without the pills he couldn’t trust his memory. Maybe his wishful mind had made it up. Bruce was sweeping it under the rug if it did happen. In a moment of pettiness John wanted him to hurt. He also had to make sure Bruce wouldn’t be around to watch his epic fall from grace.

             Without the pills who knew how he would lash out and who would be in the cross hairs.

             “This is a date.” John clenched the phone. “As much as I love your company I think things would get a little awkward.”

              John could hear the frown through the phone. “Still there?”

              “Yes, I’ve got to go. It’s great you’re seeing someone. Stay off the streets and text me when you get back tonight. I obviously won’t be over for breakfast tomorrow and... we’ll catch up later.” Bruce cleared his throat loudly.

              John wanted to confess the whole thing. Hell Bruce might even find it funny but he refrained. The pills, he had to get the pills. Tommy Elliot led to the Pig, and Waller would hand them over.

              Easy-peasy.

              He’ll be medicated and back in control before Bruce even suspected he was telling half-truths. They pinky swore no more lies, it technically wasn’t lying. Tommy and his glamorous self did have a date tonight, the sleaze didn’t know it _yet_.

              “I will. Watch your back, it’s a real jungle out there.” John hugged himself as Bruce let the phone connection die. Tapping it against his head he took a deep breath and let it hiss out between his tightly clenched teeth. He could feel all those cozy mornings start to vanish as the space between him and Bruce started grow. Like a fissure across rock, it was a crack now but give it time and it would be a gorge if he wasn’t careful.

 

 

 

 

            Every Friday night Tommy Elliot spent an obscene amount of money securing a private booth at the resident freak show. There were clubs from Main to Aberdeen Street in old Gotham that touted being all kinky. They were kiddie shows compared to Pandora’s Box. Any desire, any twisted fantasy the box could provide. It wasn’t a club per say, more of a public sex space. When John walked down the cement steps, sans Harley this time, he found the usual displays of debauchery. Flogging, blow jobs, anal sex, whipping, all the taboo and all for the taking. They were raw animals here, ready to play and touch.

            All anyone had to do was say yes.

            A person would think Bruce Wayne would be right into this scene, however John could tell his trip into BDSM was for research purposes only. Shame, the thought of tying stressed out and fed up Bruce down to relieve the pressure made him glow all rosy. Maybe after the pills were back, he might put the thought out there. The box had private rooms after all.

           Throwing cash on the bar he ordered a water. He might not be on the pills but he needed a clear head for the long night ahead.

           According to the time stamp on the crime scene photos Waller provided, Tommy’s last kill was weeks ago. While he entertained in his booth John sat at the main bar, death metal doing its damnedest to blow out his ear drums, watching. He could feel the hunger in Tommy, see it in how he viewed the others around him. They might think he was sexual but John knew that look. He wasn’t. He was trying to feed a decidedly deadlier beast tonight.

           Time to be the entrée.

            He didn’t need to dive head first into the free fuck fest to be noticed. Tommy had been noticing him all evening. Glancing every thirty minutes to see if John was still nursing his drink. He timed it. Using he mirror next to the one he was facing. It reflected Tommy’s booth perfectly but the angle made it impossible for Tommy to observe him. On the last time Tommy looked John was staring back.

            Taking a bottle of overpriced tequila he certainly couldn’t afford John weaved around the blood play taking place on the dance floor and hoisted the bottle playfully. When Tommy got to his feet to engage him John turned on his heel and walked out of the main room and down the row of private rooms. Noises of pain and pleasure mingled with the scent of blood.

            “Well, well, if it isn’t Brucie’s little friend from Nicolas.” Tommy’s voice came up behind him as he plucked the bottle from his hand and poured a generous shot down his throat. “Didn’t peg you for the wild type.”

 _Oh that’s fucking rich._ John silently sneered as his shark grin pulled tight across his lips. “I didn’t peg you for anything but another repressed rich boy.”

              John toyed with the knot on Elliot’s tie, pressing it tighter and shifting it up to cut into the wind pipe. Tommy’s eyes flashed, not in anger or fear. In anticipation.

             “Normally I take the lead in this.” Tommy didn’t try to pry his hands off the knot.

              “I have a feeling we’re a little adventurous tonight.” John’s own hellfire burned brightly. When was the last time he felt in control like this? Harley never let him take the lead. Bruce certainly had a tight grip on everyone he knew.

              He could off Tommy Elliot easily. Foreplay gone wrong, in the box they could keep it quiet. Really was there anyone to mourn the wicked?

              He sure as shit wouldn’t lose sleep.

 _Heroes don’t kill._ The soothing tones of Bruce’s voice were starting to grate on his last nerve. Why couldn’t he do what he wanted? Because his _best friend_ didn’t want him dropping bodies? What was wrong with walking the wild side? The freedom of being all he was capable of, the joy of unburdened existence was just out of reach. Why not embrace what society would never want? What the fuck was stopping him from flying off the damn handle?

              His conscious chose the time to turn up and remind him Bruce wasn’t just a best friend. He was the light outside of Arkham and if he killed Thomas Elliot in cold blood that light was snuffed out. He gripped Tommy’s face as he let the knot go. The demons were rolling around under his skin, making him feel stretched tight. He needed a little release.

              “So, is this going anywhere special or do I need to up my game already?” John licked his lips before pushing Tommy back against the wall. He was repulsed by his playmate but this was his chance to get close and find the little piggy Waller and Bats were looking for. Cut this TNT off by the fuse.

              Before his competition got the better of him and off to Arkham he went.

              “Come with me sick and twisted. I’ve got some toys at home.”

 _Uh-oh not good_. Home was private. Tommy was hungry. No one would talk if they saw them leave together and John ended up dead in a ditch somewhere. Something told him if he said no Tommy would choose another and John couldn’t stomach that either.

                Hard way it was tonight. He knew the cues well enough from being around Harley when it was time to bail. He could handle this. He still had Bruce’s phone on him. Worse came to worse he could summon Bats to get him out of a jam.

               This was a great plan. He could handle this.  

               “Ok tough guy. Let’s jet.”

               Tommy wrapped an arm around his waist, copped a grope of his left ass cheek. Reeking of heavy cologne he lean forward to whisper his plans for the evening in the shell of John’s ear.

                John was listening and counting how many things he would need to scrub from his brain when they exited out the back, again no witnesses, to the parked red Aston Martin.

                It caught him off guard when Elliot let out a yelp. Whirling around John barely had time to catch the next knife attack.

              “You killed my parents! Fuck you!” A tiny, eight-year-old kid was trying with all his might to pull free of the vice grip John had on his wrist. The street lamp illuminated his dirty clothes. Was he wearing leotard?

            “You little punk!” Tommy’s face was twisted into something inhuman and livid. Without a thought John let the kid go and he repaid his mercy by slicing his side. The bloom of pain was sharp, intense, before the hot run of blood seeped out. The kid dropped he blade and ran for it.

            Ever the opportunist John rushed dramatically to Tommy’s side. “Oh my god! Are you ok? I should call an ambulance!”

            Tommy ripped the cell out of his hands in blind panic. “I’ll be fine.”

            It did not escape John’s attention that he pocketed it. Still trying to murder him regardless of blood loss. The beast must be tormenting him tonight. His self-control was almost admirable.

            “You’ve been stabbed! And not in the fun way either.” John was all innocence, all quirk. Inside however he was eager. He could tie this all up in a neat little bow before dawn if the night was going his way.

            “I have a friend who can help. I’ll need you to drive.”

 

 

 

 

 

            When John pulled up to the old estate on the outskirts of Gotham he found himself starring in a slasher movie. Gargoyles on the ramparts, spiked decals on the windows. Two people with shaved heads in blue nursing scrubs standing guard at the heavy oak door.

            “Tommy?” John asked nervously.

            “Ignore em. They won’t talk.”

            John slowed down to a stop and parked the car. He walked up to the door, hauling Tommy along for the ride, and he banged his fist off it.

            The Pig himself answered. The mask was a pig's fleshy head and it _jiggled_ when he talked.

            “Oh Tommy dear, what have you done now?”


	4. A Pyg, a serial killer and the talking Toad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes down the rabbit hole and weighs his options. 
> 
> He was never meant to be a hero.

          “I thought you took care of our little problem!” Tommy raged as the man wearing a pig mask lead them down the winding wrought iron staircase into the basement. They came to a long cement corridor with several rooms used for storage. Or at least they had been until they were emptied and filled with dead bodies.

           John turned his head away from those rooms, noted that they didn’t smell yet, and observed Piggy instead. He walked with a limp, his right leg was bandaged and the red spots on it visible through the bindings. Piggy had been up against a big bad bat. Only one weapon in Gotham did that and he highly doubted the police started carrying throwing knives to capture their collars. It made him very nervous to know Pig had almost gotten caught trying to snatch even more people.

            He had to weigh his options. If he escaped and called for help he lost his chance to figure out what was really going on. He chose to play possum and go along with the wackos.

            Shoving a door open Piggy pushed Tommy onto a blood soaked operating table while John counted two exits in and out of the room. The door they passed through and a side door to the left. All around them were bodies hanging from hooks shoved through their stomachs on the wall. Their heads shaved and mutilated. Oddly enough they must have been fresh kills, no decay on these corpses either. Closer to the operating table a wall with several floating metal shelves housed twenty or so trays. On the tray was a mixture of brain tissue and wires. Each had an identifying number attached to them. They numbered from the 40s to 60s. John was more than repulsed. He was furious.

            Waller wanted to recreate the experiment. It was the Lotus Virus all over again.   

            “I sent my men after the little shit. I would not worry Thomas, no one would believe a carny.” Pig muttered as he stitched the wound on his thigh up.

            “Who was he?” John asked applying a bandage to his own surface injury.

            “Better yet who are you?” Pig asked and moved towards him. His fat bloody fingers gripped his jaw. _Repulsive swine_. “Remarkable bone structure and those eyes. Like emeralds. Pretty.”

            Pig looked five seconds away from plucking them out with a knife. John kept a poker face. They were all monsters here but he was the one with the most teeth. If they attacked he could always shrug his shoulders and remind the court that self-defense wasn’t murder.

            _No killing,_ his conscious reminded him. _For Bruce._

            John stuck his tongue out at it but acknowledged he would do anything for Bruce. Even spare the lives of these murdering assholes.

            “Focus professor, I still need you to bandage this.” Tommy’s rebuttal held a note of threat. After Harley John recognized it. Power and manipulation. Pig was Tommy’s lackey. Interesting.

            “I’m a friend.” John smiled widely.

            “I like friends. Don’t you agree Mr. Toad?”

            “Indeed Professor Pyg.”

             John hadn’t had so much as a drop of alcohol but he wished he had. The creature that came into the lab was a walking, talking, toad. Wearing a three piece suit. Someone check him back into Arkham because he was somehow tripping balls without chemical assistance.

            “Is this the part where we have a tea party?” John had shock written all over his face. His hands trembled slightly. This was hell, he was sure of it. No rabbit holes for him. Just sex clubs, stabbings and now anthropomorphic Toads who spoke with Cockney accents.

            He giggled, it slipped out and the peals of laughter were not far off.  

            “Drink the cool-aid. It’s extra sweet.” Pyg giggled back and John shot him a toothy grin of ‘fuck off’. Clearly the maniac wanted to eliminate the witness and he would have a hell of time trying to off him. It was a strange thing to stand in a room with three people who wanted to kill him. It was almost reassuring.

            “No tea and no arsenic for my friend. We’ll be going now Pyg.” Tommy hobbled over and put an arm around John’s back. John leaned into him and flashed a charming smile as he pawned his phone right back off the fiend. Having a life line to Bruce made this whole thing bearable.

            “We don’t usually have friends over.” Mr. Toad remarked, hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t fooling John. He knew a tray of surgical equipment was behind him. The only mystery that remained was scalpel or bone saw?

            “He’s not gonna say a thing, right sick and twisted?” Tommy asked eyebrows raised in a randy way that got the message across.

            “Arkham inmate, who would believe me.” John snickered.

            Mr. Toad and Pyg shared a look before everyone relaxed.

            “Indeed. I will see you later Tommy.” Pyg held a word of warning in his words. John let Tommy turn him away from the room, up the basement and out the door. As they left John took in all the access points. The security cameras were well hidden but they were there. The locks over the windows were silent alarms. The door was reinforced with steel bars on the inside. They were keeping something here. Squatting in the bowls of the castle, among the bodies and brains. This thing scared John and he felt the itch to start running for safe harbor. He kept in control. He didn’t murder Thomas Elliot, Pyg or Toad. Who would believe it if he offed the toad. A talking fucking toad.

            _Ha…ha, ha._

_Stop it!_

            John was keeping a tight grip on rationality but insanity was a rising tide and he was on the losing side of the battle. The events of the night were not good for his mental health.

            Bruce, he had to find Bruce.

            “You’re taking this rather well sick and twisted.” Tommy remarked as they climbed into his car for the second time that night.

            “You’re more fun than I anticipated.” John shot back with hooded eyes. “Still up for a night with all the toys?’

            “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass pet. I’ve got a meeting in three hours. Rain check?” Tommy ran a hand down his exhausted face. With his thigh wound he wouldn’t be able to murder John. He could have done so with Pyg’s help but he wanted to _savor_ the kill. All those people in those photographs had been worked over expertly. This wasn’t something he shared with his employee.

            “We’ll just have to work on your stamina next time.” John turned down the twisting road back into Gotham.

             He left a pile of bodies, Pyg and Toad behind. He was not OK with that. He couldn’t let on that he was not OK. To add to this heap of guilt he had to keep half an eye on his ‘friend’. It was guaranteed that Tommy was planning to kill him, he could feel it in the way the psychopath studied him pretending arousal but he still felt it. Sinking into the bottom of his stomach and rotting him from the inside out. Tommy was injured but he needed to feed the beast. It must be starving _poor lamb_.

             In these moments he contemplated undoing Tommy’s seatbelt and flipping the car over. He contemplated shoving Tommy out of the door at top speed. There were so many _right ways to kill_ but none that would let him look Bruce in the eye.

            “How about I make it up to you? Dinner tonight?” Tommy asked. “We could meet at the box and have ourselves a little fun.”

            “Sounds great. I’ll free up my schedule.” John smirked as he ran over the situation silently.

            Waller was no longer the best option. Despite her promise that his life was his again he couldn’t trust her. On the flip side he couldn’t trust Bruce either. It would put an end to the murders and bust the case wide open but then what? No pills and back to Arkham? He loved Bruce but he knew what that handsome man stood for and it wasn’t in John’s best interest. On one hand he could do nothing and more people would die. That was unacceptable, he might be a monster but he wasn’t _that_ type of one. There was no plan forming, no tangible idea to grasp.

            It was a conundrum his hazy tired mind could not unravel this early in the morning.

           Time was not on his side and not just with the innocent lives at stake. How many times did he contemplate murder tonight? How far could he go without reverting to that person in the fun house?

           Was it already too late?

          The thought made him break out into a cold sweat. 

          Bruce he just had to see Bruce. It would be ok.

          “About that kid.” Tommy shifted in his seat drawing John’s attention.

           “Yes?”

           “You don’t have questions about what he said?”

           “He was clearly delusional. Obviously your model citizen babe.”

            Tommy was silent for five seconds before he tossed back his head laughing, John joined in because, fuck, it was really _funny_.

 

 

 

 

            John was still in his lime green silk shirt, his purple leather jacket and tight black pants when the cab pulled up to Wayne Manor. He produced the credit card and winced at the charge but desperation had set in, exhaustion keeping it company, as the first rays of dawn rose over the horizon. Bruce would be back. Hell he might even be asleep but the urge to see him was devastating. The bodies, the brains, the talking god damn Toad, his mind was being over taken by evil. Just five minutes and he was out. Five damn minutes with Bruce and he could be on the level.

          Pounding on the door he hugged himself finally noticing the early morning frigid air. The manor house Tommy had taken him too was steeped in iciness. Now he was in the dark and freezing his cute ass off. He needed to feel warmth and with Bruce he could fight the chill away.  

 _Come on Bruce old pal, old buddy. Please let me see you. Don’t abandon me_.

          The door creaked before light spilled out bathing his shivering form.

          “John what are you doing here? What are you wearing?” Bruce was exhausted, wearing a red rich man’s dressing coat, black slippers and rubbing his eyes.

           John didn’t hesitate for a second. He flung himself forward into that solid wall of muscle mass, buried his face into his right shoulder, and held on tight for dear life. For the first time in hours he could push crazy back into the closet. He could let his guard down, let go of Waller and talking toads.

          Everything blissfully levelled out. 

          “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen on your date?” Bruce asked as two well-developed arms wrapped tightly around him. Large hands rubbed soothing circles on his bony back. Heaven was never so sweet. “Jesus Christ you’re bleeding!”

          John shoved Bruce away and sure enough a bright red blood spot had formed. He didn’t change his bandage. In fact he hadn’t thought about the wound at all.

_Shit._

_No lying_ his conscious reminded. _Let’s see how you get out of this_.

         Sometimes his conscious was a little bitch.   

         “It’s nothing,” John smiled wanly as Bruce took the hem of his shirt and lifted it.

         “Come inside, I’ll bandage you up. Does it hurt? Was this your date?” Bruce asked as he took John’s right hand and escorted him into the large manor. The word date seemed to bring out the Bat. The shadow fell over his face.

          They passed the checkered black and white posh foyer and moved into the study. John had been here plenty of times but it never failed to impress him. Stone statutes of lounging women from Greece framed the doorway, a world map made of gold hung over the insanely large stone fireplace. Wedged in the far back was a cherry wood desk covered in WE business corporate black folders. The whole right side of the room was filled with books. Plato, Socrates, Aristotle and translations of various sorts. It wasn’t for show. Bruce could read them in their _native tongue._     

          “Yes and no.” John hedged as Bruce sat him down on a very expensive couch before the roaring fire. He could feel the intricate lines and patterns dig into his skin. John figured the damn thing probably came from one of those dead French kings and cost more than his apartment building.

           He was so out of place.

           Bruce disappeared and returned with a bottle of antiseptic. His guest whimpered from the memory of it as he reclined back into the soft regal couch. After running around with Tommy Elliot for most the night, nearly being murdered twice, and by a talking toad no less, he was drained. He folded his long legs under him as he started to undo the silk shirt. The large stone fire place was warm enough he wouldn’t freeze. He was keenly aware that Bruce was gently helping him out of it.

          Such a sweetheart.

          “Yes and no? Can you speak plainly for once? I’m worried about you.” Bruce graveled. John hadn’t come here for this. As adorable as his protective streak was John didn’t haul ass to the manor house just for his anger. He wanted something more. He wanted the balcony fifty stores up from the ground. He wanted _them_.

           “Hush, it’s only a scratch.” John was too tired to keep himself in check for he openly cupped Bruce’s chin. There was a 5 o’clock stubble on his otherwise smooth jaw. Warmth filled his hand from the barest brush of skin on skin. “Nothing a little cleaning and care can’t help.”

           Bruce’s eyes dilated before he moved away and John let his hand fall.

           Taking the brown bottle Bruce held it up to the red skin and placed a towel beneath his pasty back. “This will hurt a lot.”

           John gripped the wooden frame of the couch behind his head and kept his body relaxed. It was Bruce, he was safe. The pain was only momentary. “I’m ready.”

           Bruce poured liquid acid over the red inflamed skin making John’s body seize up, he clenched his jaw and hissed a breath out between his teeth. Then Bruce pulled a smooth move. He leaned over and blew air gently across the pulsing wound.

_Holy hell._

           The pain dulled to a tolerable throb as Bruce applied a fresh bandage. Goose flesh covered John from head to toe and his shiver had nothing to do with temperature.

           “There. Not so bad, was it?” Bruce asked with a slight smile.

            John’s heart was about ready to jump out of his chest. What wouldn’t he do, _what wouldn’t he give_ , just to reach up and grasp the back of Bruce’s head. Drag him down over him. Kiss away all the madness he was dealing with. Inhale the smell of leather and Gotham grime. Soak up the endless strength he had.

            “It’s intolerable.” John moaned.  

             This was torture. He preferred it if Bruce hit him, marked him up with scars and pain. It was far kinder than the agony of his gentleness.

             Bruce applied a fresh bandage. “Will you tell me how it happened?”

             “A midget with a knife.”

            “We pinky swore no more lies.”

            “Oh come on, as if I would break the sacred oath. Not lying dear. I’ll tell you later. Right now there’s a king size, feather down, overly expensive bed upstairs calling my name.” John yawned. He was aroused as hell but his body was weak. Good thing too, Bruce thought he was dating someone else and was fine with it. The thought nagged at him. Wasn’t the smoldering thing between them worth something? Anything other than this _good_ behavior they resigned themselves too.  

            Sometimes being sane just wasn’t any fucking fun.

            “I think all guest bedrooms have queens.” Bruce said brow furrowed.

            “That’s right. Alfred did say something about the guest bedrooms being queen. So great detective. Just whose bed am I referring too?” If John had to lead the horse to water he had no problem doing so.

             Bruce’s answer was swift. “No.”

             “Yes.”

            “John.”

            “Bruce I’m injured. My body needs five inch thick memory foam.”

             Bruce let out a heavy sigh before holding out his hand to help John up. “What will your date say?”

             “He’s just a date. You’re just a friend. No lines are crossed and no one gets hurt.” John practically raced up the stairs. “And if I get blood on the sheets _no one will care_ in this house. Come on, you still have hours before you need to go into work.”

 

 

 

              Bruce let him stay. He rescheduled his early morning meetings so they could lay in bed much later than they should. It was innocent, despite the intimacy of curling up near each other and dropping off to dream land. He enjoyed the moments respite before the dark hours ahead.  

               They left Wayne Manor well after noon and Bruce insisted on dropping him off.

               Gotham’s number one bachelor had a tug at the corner of his lips when he gazed at his passenger while they drove down the highway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone make such a mess.”

              “Pancakes are dirty business.”

              Bruce went silent for a moment before he glanced fleetingly at John’s smug expression.

              “Especially when you start a batter war.” Bruce had started it.

              “ _Excuse you_ , I didn’t start it but I sure as hell won.” John playfully put his feet on the dash expecting Bruce to bat them away with his hands. He did nothing but pat the ankle closest to him affectionately. He was completely at ease as he rolled the Lexus off the highway and under the overpass towards the tawdry side of town.

             “You do adore winning.” He returned and John wanted to wrap himself in the velvet baritone. The longer he was insane the more he wanted to do filthy things with his best friend. He could tell it wasn’t all one sided. 

             “You know me so well.” John smirked, eyes flashing.

             “I want to know what happened last night. We’ve been together all morning and you still haven’t explained why you were knifed.” Bruce was now in Bat mode. He was biding his time all morning to catch John off guard. It would be rude if it didn’t come from a place of concern.

             “Been saving that question for a while?” John started to run excuses through his head but they were lies. This was Bruce, he pinky swore. God damn, cornered in a black Lexus, he had nowhere to hide.

             “I told you what happened. Midget with a knife.” John shrugged and turned his head to stare out the window. Anywhere but those ice cold blues.

             “Was the date the midget or just an extra for fun?” Bruce’s accusing voice made him whip his head around. He noticed his best friend was gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white.

             “I take offense to that. I’m a big fan of monogamy.” John tried charm but a nervous giggle slipped out. He was utterly loyal to Bruce, not that he knew that. His conscious was now reading the newspaper having heard _all of this_ before.

            “Don’t change the subject. Why were you stabbed?” Bruce returned glaring.

            “I don’t care for this game,” John’s eyes narrowed and his tone was sharp.

            “And I don’t care for lies.” Bruce returned, gorgeous thin lips turned down at the sides.

            “Enough with the interrogation! I haven’t lied to you!” John barked squaring his shoulders for a fight.

            “You sure as hell haven’t been honest. What are you hiding?” Bruce asked as he nearly rammed into the sidewalk in an effort to park the car. He slammed the gear shift into park, ripped his seat belt off and made John his entire focus. Bruce Wayne might be in the car but John could see only Bats.

            “I’m not…I can’t explain.” John sank against the seat pinching the bridge of his nose. He wanted too, he wanted to cut open his stomach and spill his guts. The second he did off to Arkham he went. Waller would undoubtedly restrict visitation rights while using Pyg’s research for nefarious purposes.   

            It was a no win scenario.

           “Not good enough.” Bruce ground out. “Are you off your pills? Do you need an appointment with Dr. Leland? I can help you. I can get you whatever you need. I’ll talk to HR if you want a job. I’ll move you into a nicer apartment.”

           “I know you can but money will not solve this! It won’t fix me Bruce I’m…I am what I am.” John finished. No fancy apartment, no job, no amount of normal could fix him. In a moment of blinding clarity he saw himself for what he really was.

          What Harley saw.

          Someone damaged.

          His voice was hoarse. “I can’t help it.”

         John realized with heart crushing clarity the pills couldn’t give him a normal life. They levelled him out, kept the monster on lock down but he couldn’t change his nature. The last two days proved that. He was more at home in silk lime shirts and murderous Pig face wearing lunatics than he was trying to fit in. As much as he tried to be a normal person Bruce could introduce his friends, it was _never_ going to happen. 

         This mental breakthrough came with a side of stark reality. He’d never get Bruce. Ever. It just wasn’t in the cards. Bruce deserved more and John, bless his heart, couldn’t give _any more_ than he had.

         The only thing left to this tragedy was to put Pyg, Toad and Tommy to bed in Arkham. No killing. Not because Bruce would be disappointed but because those assholes deserved a lifelong sentence and hell couldn’t do worse to them than Arkham.   

         “I know what you are. What you’re doing here, right now, is lying to me. We never lie to each other. We never have too.” Bruce leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “Where were you last night? Who was this mysterious date you won’t tell me about? Why were you stabbed? Please talk to me.”

         The silence in the car was suffocating. John felt gutted. Like he was just another corpse hanging on Pyg’s wall. He had no explanation. No reason for it all. Nothing but lies and he could not do that to Bruce.  

         “You once trusted me with the fate of Gotham. I rewarded that trust by handing over the Lotus Virus to you.” John locked eyes with him. His shinning knight in black leather and seething righteousness. The bloody love of his life. “Trust me and your faith will be rewarded again.”

         Bruce clenched his jaw before he eased back and sighed heavily. “I will but that trust only goes so far. Now is the time to talk to me if you have something to say.”

        John undid his seat belt and climbed out of the car, hanging his purple leather jacket over his arm.

        “I know.”

        He turned his back on Bruce and that fissure was starting to grow. No cute little pancake batter play fight could repair this. He was testing limits that were fragile and how he hated it. Instead of kissing Bruce out of his damn mind he was going to pretend seduce a man who wanted to kill him. Instead of enlisting Batman’s aid he was actively working _against_ him. That burned hot vile down his throat and made him nauseous.

       He stopped on the landing to his floor and leaned against the wall. He pushed back the rising urge to phone Bruce, confess his sins. Bruce would understand. Off to Arkham he would go and Waller would get her hands on the research. He couldn’t let that happen. And since he had nothing to lose anymore why not keep at it. Keep duping Tommy and Pyg to think he was on their side until he came up with a solid plan?

       This thing was now among the monsters now.

       It’s not like Bruce wasn’t keeping secrets. He hadn’t mentioned his fight with Pyg or any of the case details. He must not be closing in. This gave John plenty of time to work. How he was going to handle the murderous duo was beyond his scope but inspiration was always around the corner. He’d show up to Pandora’s Box and see where Tommy took him tonight. A plan might come then.

       John trudged down the hall, feeling as if he ripped his heart out and left in the Lexus. In a daze he opened the door without unlocking it. All he could think about was kissing and making up with the love of his life, he hardly noticed the pinch of a knife edge at his wounded side until it was too late to do anything about it. John stilled, it had to be that freak Toad. Bone saw? No, edge was too thick.

      “Don’t move or the knife goes in.” The boyish voice commanded. “You’re taking me to Thomas Elliot.”

      “Your ability to find sharp objects is astounding. Whatcha gonna do with Tommy shorty?” John asked holding his hands up in surrender.

      “Kill him.”

      “Too good for him, trust me. I’m going to throw him in Arkham and since I’ve been working him all night long I call _dibs._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a break from posting tomorrow. I'll be back at it come this Friday :)


	5. Outside Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John built a house of cards, now they're all coming down and the real mastermind is revealed.

       “Didn’t look like it last night.” The kid snarled moving around and keeping a tight grip on the knife. His hair was oily, he looked gaunt and the oversized jean jacket he wore was tattered. The yellow leotard was brown now and a hole on right knee completed the look. Homeless, starving and without any one to care.

        “Looks are deceiving kiddo. By the way what’s your name? If you’re going to be a tough guy, your name better be brutal. Strike fear into the hearts of your enemies.” John said hands still held high.

        “Dick.”

        “Well it’s something to start with.”

        “Like you can do better.”

        “Fair point short round. Now before we go on a killing spree, how about breakfast? Maybe you could take a shower because if I get into a car with you I’ll hurl.” John gestured to his fridge. Dick licked his lips at the mention of food. Poor kid.

        “I mean Tommy and the Pyg are gonna die some time. What’s a little more time? I make a mean omelet.” John offered moving slowly towards the fridge and pulling out the eggs, the ham, and cheese. All the while Dick clutched the knife watching him tense. He kept rubbing his eyes.

        “Long night?” John asked as he turned on the stove top to warm the skillet up.

        “After I found you at the box I spent the night tracking you.” Dick explained before he could catch himself.

        “Go get cleaned up. I have some clothes we can cut to fit you.” John offered. He had a pair of tights and a black t-shirt that could fit the kid. They were a small size.

       “You’ll call the cops or maybe your fuck buddy if I let my guard down.” Dick declared stubbornly raising the dagger again as John cocked an eyebrow.

       “Language little one. And as I’ve said I am not interested in Tommy boy, not in that way.” John started to let the omelet sizzle, adding cheese and ham until Dick was practically drooling from the smell. “So what’s the plan? How are you going to drag me through Gotham without the Bat stopping you? I mean a knife is hardly discreet.”

       Dick shivered at the mention of the Bat. Eyes wide and terrified. There was a time, long forgotten, when he feared the Bat. He knew the man behind the cowl and only the guilty had something to dread from him. The Bat wasn’t Dick’s only problem. He couldn’t fathom living on the street and what the kid had lived through while he was there.

      “Look I’ve got a plan. Concerning Pyg, Tommy and the whole thing.” John made sure the omelet was cooked to perfection before he slipped it onto a plate before the skinny kid in a dirty jean jacket. “A better one then the one you have. They will get what’s coming, I swear. But I need you to trust me a little bit. Stay here where it’s safe and let me handle this.”

       Dick forked the whole thing into his mouth and chewed loudly. “Why would I trust you?”

      “Because if you don’t Pyg will kill you. Maybe do something worse.” John explained.

      “What’s worse than death?” Dick asked as he swallowed large chunks.

      “Plenty.” John shuddered at the image of the hanging bodies. “What’s the alternative plan kiddo? You run out there and get killed? They’re monsters, they will eat you alive.”

       Dick eyed him doubtfully. “And what chance do you have?”

       John smiled ruefully. “Oh I’ll do just fine. Now shower or get out of my apartment. I feel my stomach turning.”

       Dick sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “If you call the cops or Tommy I’ll kill both of you. I keep the knife.”

       John nodded. “Fair enough short round.”

      “Stop calling me that _chuckles_.”

      “And he has a sense of humor!” John was growing fond of the little stinker.

      “Bite me!” Dick slammed the door and locked it for good measure.

       “No thanks, I prefer my meals less rotten.” John shouted at the door, unwilling to let his house guest get the better of him. He moved to bolt the door when it swung open and Waller walked right in without invitation. He didn’t even glance at the bathroom door. Even when the shower started to run, hoping Dick wouldn’t grace his presence for a good long time. If Waller found him, she would undoubtedly wonder who the hell he was. She would take note of every little detail and when she put two and two together she would realize who he was. She would use him to lure Tommy’s friend out of hiding. She did anything necessary to get the job done. Using the small, frightened, kid who would trust an older person to do the right thing was not beyond her conscious.    

        He wondered if he could get away with homicide by skillet.

        His conscious shook its head dejectedly.

        “I see you’ve been making progress.” Waller was all smiles today. That made the tension double in his shoulders. “However you lack focus.”

        “Waller what the hell are you talking about?” John’s voice was a raspy hard edge.

        “Bruce Wayne.”

         God just sound of his name was the softest Egyptian cotton across his skin. He bit his lip.

        “So we had a sleep over. Didn’t think I needed your permission mom.” John had to get her out of the apartment before Dick opened the door. Sweat was starting to gather on his forehead.

        “It doesn’t concern me until I find out my agent is _fraternizing_ with the enemy.” Waller ground out smiles gone now. John mentally waved them bye-bye.

        “If only.” The green hair man let out a longing sigh sagging against the door before he straightened up. “Unfortunately Bruce and I are on ice. I’m just too much for him to handle, besides I’m far too busy to pay him any attention. I’ve got little Thomas Elliot wrapped around my pinky finger. Pretty soon he’ll be _dying_ to introduce me to his friends.”

       Waller marched across the cheap wood aluminum flooring right up into his personal space. The shower had stopped.

       He was out of time.

       He had to get her out.

       Waller held his gaze. “As long as I get what I want, you’ll get what you deserve puddin.”

       Something told him his just rewards were not what he thought they were. It was all in the wording. Harley was much more subtle, he had been too much in love with her to see what she was doing. He didn’t love Waller. He saw every trick she had to play.

       Pills were just the lure. He was tired to taking the bait.

       Without so much as a good bye Waller marched out of the room and slammed the door.

       John had more manners for he shouted. “Toodle-oo!”

       A plan finally popped into his head. Dick could finger Tommy and Pyg in the murders before being placed under police protection. Gordon would look after the little guy. It still left the question of the research falling into Waller’s hands but it was the start of a good plan. A great one once he worked out the details.

      Once Dick was in Gordon’s custody he could flee up north. Cool his heels, try to start over. He wasn’t getting to live a happily ever after with Bruce, there was no point in sticking around anymore.

      Before his conscious could berate him for poor life choices he told it to shut the hell up. Feeling sympathy for the devil the little nagging asshole remained silent.

       “Who was that?” Dick asked as he walked out waring a clean metal band t-shirt he found on the floor of the bathroom and his ripped leotard.

       “Someone you never cross kid. How do you feel?” John asked as he checked the time. He needed to pick up a few party favors before tonight.

        “Tired.” Dick yawned.

        “Crash on the couch. I’m heading out. Lock the dead bolt behind me and if anyone comes to the door run like hell.” John instructed moving into the bedroom to change the bandage, put on a fresh white button down dress shirt and leather pants. Putting his aviator glasses on he grabbed his wallet and headed for the door. He could keep Tommy from killing someone else and go to Gordon in the morning before skipping town.

       “Why are you being so nice to me? I threatened to murder you.” Dick asked before he crossed the threshold.

       “Believe it or not short round I don’t hurt kiddos. I don’t like what happened to your parents and I really fucking hate the people responsible. They’re the threat to my life. A knife isn’t much of a danger at this point.” John started to close the door.

       “What are you gonna do to them chuckles? Bring them to justice?” Dick snorted.

       “Thinking it over. Stay off the streets tonight kid and remember what I told you.” John shut the door, heard the lock click into place before he moved off to gather his toys.

           

 

 

 

         _I miss you._

         John frowned and deleted the line of text he typed.

         _I never meant to lie._

         John let out a hiss of frustration and deleted the text again.

        _Let’s kiss and make up. I’ll sweeten the deal with sucking you off_.

        Yup, that one was definitely deleted. As he walked into the electronics store he tried to desperately to find a way to say ‘I’m sorry I lied but the devil made me do it’. There were no words. God he missed Bruce and having him be angry with him was detrimental to his mental health. What if he really went off the deep end? Who the hell would he turn to now?

        Shoving the phone into his pants he crossed into the store. It was empty again.

        “Do you have any customers or are they invisible?” John asked pushing his glasses up on his head.

        “Hey you won’t believe what happened after you left yesterday.” Noah said as he tossed the Gotham Gazette on the glass display case. He rounded the counter to address John directly.  

         John graced him with a bored look. “Someone actually came in to shop here?”

         “Jackass, yesterday Bruce Wayne showed up after we talked.” Noah was glowing, Bruce had that effect on people. John would join in on the fan boy session but his heart had stopped and he gaped at Noah. That was too much of a coincidence.  

         “I’m sorry what?” He really didn’t have an elegant way of phrasing ‘ _what the hell are you talking about!’_ when his mind was on the fritz.

        “It was bizarre, he kept asking about you. About the crew you were building. Do you know him? I mean everyone knows _him_ but is he bank rolling you?” Noah’s face twisted in confusion.

        John took out his phone, the one Bruce had given him. The one that he hacked when he was in need of reassurance of his location. If he could hack the locate button he could turn on other things as well. Even recordings. Then he would know about Waller and he would force John back into Arkham for his safety and the security of the public.

       That had not happened yet so he didn’t think Bruce was spying on him with the phone.

       He put it away as he noticed the security cameras in the store. Those with the Wayne Tech logo. Son of a bitch, he didn’t notice them before.    

       John stifled the urge to wring Noah’s neck as he asked. “And what did you tell him?”

       “I told him everything. FYI he got really quiet when I mentioned Tommy Elliot. Like scary quiet. Tommy must have served him the wrong caviar.” Noah shivered.

       John pressed the heel of palms to his eyes. Good fucking God, Bruce knew about Tommy Elliot’s connection to Pyg. He had too. Overwhelming panic built as it dawned on John Bruce thought he was building a _crew_. Not much of stretch to imagine the worst case scenario. His interrogation this morning made all the more sense.

       _He knew you were lying. He was trying to reach out to you and you shot him down_. His conscious reminded him. As if he could sink no lower.

       “Hey, you ok man?” Noah asked peering at him uneasily.

        “Noah.”

        “Yeah dude?”

        “I want a lot of knives, twenty of them, to keep under my clothes. And this time, don’t fucking talk to Bruce Wayne about this.”

 

    

 

        John was whistling a happy tune, trying to cheer himself up, when his phone went off. For a moment he hoped it was Bruce only to be disappointed by the snow flake icon.

        “Hello?”

        “It’s Freeze returning your call.” John stopped dead as he glanced around. This was not a conversation he wanted to have in the open.

        “How’s it going Freeze? Keeping it icy?” John grinned as he ducked into an alleyway to speak freely.

        “Did you think that one up on your own?” Freeze returned.

        “Ouch, I dare you to do better.” John said sniggering. He loved poking the polar bear.

        “What’s this all about John?” Freeze cut across the chit chat. John was missing Bruce like crazy and Freeze wasn’t calling to fill the void. He had reached out for another reason. Freeze was a genius. He wouldn’t be emotionally compromised either, unless Norah was one of the victims John could count on his perspective.

        “It’s the botched lobotomy victims from the Arboretum. I know the freak who did it and I need someone to help me understand his research.” John explained leaning against the wall.

        “Dangerous company my friend, Bruce must be nervous.” Freeze said as John hugged himself.

         “Bruce isn’t a part of this.” he sighed, “and we had a fight.”

         “When Norah used to be a little chilly with me I tended to sit her down, ask why she was angry with me and then _talk it out_.” Freeze offered veering off course.

         “How’s that going now a days?” John snarled and then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that-”

          “Hanging up now,” Freeze warned.

          “He had brains and wires on a shelf. The numbers were up to the 60s. He also had a lot of bodies in the basement of Tommy Elliot’s cottage. I say cottage but really it was a mansion. I hate rich people.” John rushed on forgetting Bruce for the moment although it wasn’t easy.

          “In the basement.” Freeze muttered.

          “Yeah,” John shrugged.

           “In freezers?” Freeze asked and John knew he had him. If it was one thing that Freeze loved it was specifics.

           “No they were out in the open.” John supplied wondering where this was going.

           “That’s strange.” Freeze commented. “The brains and wires were in the 60’s. Those bodies would be old. The decay would be utterly disgusting. Why not bury the bodies in the backyard and spare yourself the smell.”

          “They didn’t smell.” John pointed out as he felt the air drop several temperatures. Freeze was making a lot of sense.

         “ _That’s ridiculous._ If he’s been killing sixty people and keeping the bodies the methane gas alone would blow the mansion sky high and he wouldn’t get any work done because he would be retching every five seconds. Are you sure they were dead?” Freeze sounded affronted by the mere idea.

        “Oh my God,” John’s stomach clenched tight, “they aren’t _dead_.”

        “Beg pardon?” Freeze asked.

         “The bodies in the Arboretum were failures. The ones in the mansion are his success.” John was piecing it together.

         “Ok, so he made his breakthrough. He has his army of whatever they are, now what would his next move be?” Freeze mused unconcerned.

         “Fucks sake,” John hissed. “It’s not _his_ move.”

          “Very good John.” Freeze complimented.

          “It’s Harley.” John finally saw the spider web for what it was. Harley was Waller’s agent in the field. She was keeping the Wall in the dark while Pyg finished up his research and Tommy supplied the means to get it done.

         It was worse than that. She managed to drive a wedge between John and Bruce while doing it. She used John’s fear of his insanity and rejection to keep him away from altering Bruce. She played on Bruce’s fear that he would be standing in a room full of corpses again and no way to reach John. She emotionally manipulated Batman unknowingly, throwing him off his game.

        The only one who could take the power out of her hands wasn’t John or Bruce, it was _Dick_. She never imagined someone would witness the murders and connect two of her coconspirators to the authorities. It didn’t matter if the Agency could swoop in on Gotham and try to silence it all. Once murder happened in Gotham GCPD had jurisdiction. She knew Tommy Elliot was stabbed last night, she was a fucking control freak.

       Dick was in danger.

       “This is been very amusing. I’m hanging up now, run off to Bruce and cry. He’s a sucker for you and your big green eyes. And may I suggest begging, begging and compromise are the corner stones of a successful marriage.” Freeze finished.

       “Thanks dude, owe you an ice cold one.” John’s mind was racing.

       “Good God that was awful. I’m stealing it.” Freeze promised as he hung up.      

        John was running through the street and dialing Bruce.

        “This is Bruce, leave a message.”

        “I know you’re angry! I’m so _sorry_ baby but someone-HEY CABBIE-God damn it- someone needs your help! A kid witnessed the murders and now Harley-HEY I’m _walking_ here asshole! Yes _that_ HARLEY, is going to kill him!” John weaved around the people tossing him angry looks, cut across the busy roads trying to get to his apartment before Harley scraps together what happened last night. Tommy was too far out of Gotham for Dick to get but John, he used his name around the neighborhood and it didn’t take a damn genius to figure out Dick’s next move. The cars blared their horns as he ignored them.

        The line cut off.

        “This is Bruce, leave a message.”

        “Hey asshole watch where you’re going!”

        “Fuck you! Not you darling, this total dick wad that- never mind- the point is please help me. I can’t do this alone and Pyg finished his research and something awful is happening. I’m not good _with stress_ and my pills are placebos that Waller switched out.”

        The line dropped.

        “This is Bruce, leave a message.”

         “-Ok I get it I messed up. I should have said something. I should have gotten back in the Lexus and told you everything but I….just wanted to be normal. The type of normal you introduce to your friends. Your other friends like that crazy pop star on your yacht last year or the Carringtons from Atlanta. You know people who are fucking stinky rich like you.”

         Line drop.

         “This is Bruce, leave a message.”

         “I love you. I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight but if history has given me any indication I’ll be gone come morning. This thing inside it’s there, it was there in the fun house and without my meds I’m _fading_. So before I bow out I just wanted you to know…I love you.”

        Finally John had enough. He had tried and he had failed miserably. The monster, the one that had been subdued in a drug induced coma rose to blurrily regard the world around its self. John let it grow, let it push his conscious back into a box and lock it up.

        Then he stepped out into the street the next time he saw a flash of yellow coming. The screeching halt of the cab and the blaring of horns did nothing to stop him from walking around the side and dragging the cabbie out by his collar.

        Slipping into the seat he gunned it all the way back to his apartment to find it a warzone. The doorway ripped apart, the inside tossed and ransacked.

        Dick was missing, he wasn’t dead on the ground so Pyg was keeping him alive. John jumped back into the car and was gunning down the highway, no plan, just his knives and what ever wits remained.  

        It was a long trip out of Gotham.  

        Heart hammering in fear, begging God to spare Dick he finally found the manor house, ditched the car and burst through the door. Pyg was holding Dick by a knife to his throat on the stairs. John slipped a knife into his hand as his side exploded with intense pain. So distracted he didn’t notice that Toad launched out from behind the door to shove a knife into his right side.

       The heavy door slammed closed. The thick iron bars dropped into place.

       “Chuckles!” Dick screamed as he toppled to his knees. Toad lined up a punch and it was curtains for the clown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truthfully I hate this chapter. There were several drafts but none of them really made it work. This one's not bad but I'm really excited for the next chapter. The Joker is coming out to play.


	6. Joker's Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only so much a poor unfortunate soul can take before they get pushed to damn far. 
> 
> Fear was his enemy and he gave into it.

           When he woke he was strapped to a table. His right side was throbbing like a son of a bitch and who knew how much blood he lost. He had been stripped of his jacket and weapons. No more knives to pull out like magic tricks. The Toad, the blasted freak of nature was standing on his chest over him as Pyg ran around dumping computer drives into a bag.

           A knife hovered over his right eye.

           “Do you still want these emeralds professor?” Toad asked serenely. In the distance he could hear the sounds of explosions. Pyg rigged the place to blow. Dick was strapped to a chair in the corner shaking like a leaf. Tears streaming from his eyes. Not for John or himself. He was staring at the hanging bodies, two of them to be precise.

            John’s heart positively ached for him.

            “Yes, yes Mr. Toad. Let’s make this quick. The Batman is here. I was so close, so close to perfect.” Pyg muttered and squealed when the next bomb shook the ground. Debris from the cement ceiling rained down on them.

            “Hey Toad.” John said getting the thing’s attention.

            “Yes Mr. Doe?” Toad titled his head.

            “You really freak me the fuck out man.” John snapped his teeth around the scalpel and with a jerk of his head cut a line across Toad’s throat. Toad gurgled as he fell off to the side and Pyg rushed over. John spat the knife into his right hand and cut it free. Despite whatever companionship he felt Pyg saw he cutting himself loose and ran for it.

             John stumbled over to Dick and hacked his ropes off.

             “He’s getting away!” Dick shouted as they scrambled after the masked murdering villain. The hallway exploded in dust as a bomb went off. Fire and body parts went flying out of the rooms. John yanked Dick to his side  and covered him with his body. When the coast was clear they ran towards the wrought iron staircase. It was in shambles but it was the only exit left. Smoke was starting to cast a haze over the basement.

             Like a monkey the kid shimmed up the remains of the staircase and John was close behind. Around them the foundations of the mansion groaned from the assault. It was an already malnourished building, a few more hits and a subtle wind could knock it down.

            Keeping half an eye for dark corners around them John kept Dick close, when they emerged from the staircase the police were ramming the front door.

           “This is the GCPD! Come out with your hands up!”

           They wouldn’t be breaking it down in time to stop Pyg’s escape. John wobbled from the wound in his side and leaned against a broken pillar. 

            No sign of Batman.

            “You ok chuckles?” Dick asked as John steadied himself. 

            “Something tells me I’ll live. Come on, this way.” John pushed Dick behind him as he started towards the kitchen.

            The bone saw nearly took his head off.

             It slammed into the doorway and John attacked. Bringing the scalpel down on Pyg’s thigh. The asshole lived up to his name and squealed before turning tail and running clutching his wound. The bag of hard drives firmly clenched in his other fist.

            John followed him pass the large oak dining room table, and managed to catch up as Pyg fumbled with the lock on the glass doors. He grabbed the back of his head and slammed him threw the glass. Pyg rolled to his feet taking the scalpel out of his leg and brandishing it about wildly backing up. They were on a decrepit cement veranda overlooking a ravine, the water was white with rushing rapids and the iron guard rail was rusted through from neglect. 

            “End of the line Pig!” Dick had a sick glee on his face that looked horrible out of place for one so young.

            John made the choice and with a strike to his head, he knocked him out. Carefully, despite the throbbing pain in his side, he caught the kid before he fell and laid him gently on the ground running a hand through his hair. _Sorry short round,_ he didn’t want Dick to witness what was about to happen. His green hair fell over his eyes as he regarded Pyg.  

            “Stay back! You’ve lost a lot of blood Johnny Boy, you don’t have the strength to fight me.” Pyg looked around for a staircase, an exit, but John had seen there were none before he walked out of the kitchen.

            He counted the exits just to be sure.

            John’s thoughts started to swirl in dark colors. Tommy was going to Arkham but Waller could still reach Pyg. Start of the experiments again. She would have everything she needed if Pyg lived long enough for the GCPD to take him into custody. He could gamble on Gordon and Bruce destroying his research but they could not destroy the sick fuck’s mind.  

           Waller would get her paws on him and he couldn’t live with that.

_Don’t do this._ His conscious begged. _You’re better than this._

_No I’m not._ John whispered into the dark as it rose up, breaking the chains that held him down. His conscious was drowned out by the monster roaring in his ears. Once he left a crack in the door it burst through. No more expectations, no rules, nothing to hold him back. Awful unlimited freedom flooded every cell in his body. He could do whatever the fuck he wanted and this time _no one could stop him._

          There was no dark avenging knight to pull him back. It was just him now.

          John tossed his arms open and smiled. There was such a simple solution to all his problems.    

          “I’m not here to fight professor. I’m here to help you.” John said, eyes open wide and innocent. His grin was in place as if they were buddies.  

          “Help me?” Pyg adjusted the grip on the scalpel as John started to walk closer. He was listening. John was his last resort.

          Without hope, without options, his mind was so clear.

         “Why yes, we’re two of a kind you and me. Think of all the fun we could have.” He giggled enticingly.

           Pyg didn’t know it was the Joker who stood across from him. Anarchy took its rightful place, what a seductive pull. He could slice Pyg open navel to nose, he could do anything he wanted. All he had to do was introduce a little chaos into this situation and watch the fireworks explode. They might even call him a hero.

            Peals of laughter spilled from his mouth.

           That was the punchline.

            No one else on earth but the Joker to save the day. Didn’t anyone else find it funny? Because he was _killing himself_ laughing.

            The giggles were mixing with the blood in his mouth.

            “I just gotta know one thing professor before we bind ourselves in holy matrimony.” John stalked closer, grin stretched so wide it hurt his cheeks to hold it. Little trails of red leaking from his side wound. He didn’t even feel it.

            Pyg gripped the bag to his chest as his back hit the rusted pointed railing. “And what is that Johnny Boy?”

            John titled his head staring into the dark eye holes of a pig face.

            “Do Pyg’s really fly?”

            Too late Pyg realized his error. He lashed out but John moved quickly. He ducked the swipe at his throat, grabbed Pyg’s pudgy middle and slammed him into the railing. It buckled from their combined weight and broke a moment later.

            They fell backwards, Pyg screaming bloody murder all the way down the thirty foot drop as John laughed his head off. They smashed into the rapids, John flew right into a rock, the air nearly knocked out of his lungs before he was pulled under, Pyg fared worse. He thrashed trying to make for the surface but the current was too strong. The last of his airs bubbles finally flushed upwards, broken hard drive pieces floating around him as he sank. John passed by as the river tossed him around like a rag doll.

            There was still a little bit of him left. John felt relief that Pyg would no longer harm people and all his victims would find a semblance of peace knowing his research was lost to the watery depths. 

            All in all not a bad way to go out.  

            John’s lungs burned in a fight for his life. He was tired. So damn tired. How easy would it be just to let go. What did he have now? No pills, no Bruce, and no normal. Tommy was in custody, Waller without her research. Everyone came out a winner.

            He closed his eyes ready for the next step when a hand gripped his wrist pulling him to the surface. He gasped in sweet precious air as he toppled over the side of a rubber boat. 

            “We have him ma’am.” The rescue operator said as the paramedic pumped him full of drugs. He went slack as they rowed to shore. John’s eyes darted around in the vain hope of another rescue. He was disappointed when Waller’s fat stupid head peered down at him.

            “Tell me something Mr. Doe, how does it feel? Knowing you’ve pissed off the devil and God will not have you?” Waller asked as she gripped his head and yanked his throat back exposing it to a knife in her hand.

            “Is this the part where you dangle pills in front of my face? Haul me to Arkham? Jesus woman find a new shtick this one is old.” John hissed as she slammed his head off the ground.

            “Are we taking him to Arkham ma’am?”

            “No, Dr. Strange has been after me for a new subject. I think I’ll give him this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....we have two maybe three chapters left. Wonder if our boys will ever reunite before the end. Sorry this chapter is so short.


	7. Liars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what did Bruce do after John went down the river?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had this story written out, made posting a chapter a night possible, but there's so much I want to do with it now. I just need to write one more chapter and then I can post the last chapter and epilogue. So please bear with me. Sorry that it's 9 chapters instead of the promised 8. 
> 
> I thank everyone who gave a kudos or a comment. They encourage me to write my melodrama trash. :D

            “Mr. Wayne any comment on the Pyg murders? Is it true you went to school with Thomas Elliot?”

            “Mr. Wayne you adopted the little boy who survived, care to comment on fatherhood at the age of twenty-one?”

            “Mr. Wayne are you here to identify the remains of John Doe?”

            That last one made him stop in his tracks, despite the heavy Oakley sunglasses on his face they could see the pinch around his eyes as he clenched them tight. His butler was quick to put a hand on his back and steer him up the rest of the cement stairs of Gotham General Hospital where Gordon was waiting.

            “As I have said these past four months and will continue to repeat, Mr. Wayne _has no comments_. Please direct all inquiries to his public relations office at Wayne Enterprises.” Alfred said gesturing for the personal security team to push the reporters back. Out of this tragedy came some semblance of good. In Bruce’s moment of need Alfred returned to help him. He needed an incredible amount of it, more than Dick or Tiffany could give despite their best efforts.

            “Mr. Wayne.” Gordon had been smoking, Bruce could smell it on him and his shoulders tensed. God this might be it, this might be the day.

            “Jim, it’s good to see you.” Bruce murmured in a daze. He should have known the moment he heard the commissioner’s voice over the phone that it was over.

            His desperate search for John was at an end.  

            “We tried to have the vultures chased off but any area outside the hospital was fair game.” Gordon said as he opened the glass doors. They strolled toward the elevators quickly to evade any further invasive camera flashes. The morgue was in the basement. He knew the route by heart having walked it several times during his night time activities.

            This time however, the body laying there made his hands tremble in his coat pockets.

            262800

            That was how many minutes passed without John.

            4380

            Hours beyond the last frantic phone call.

            _I love you._

            1435

            The number of times he listened to it because he couldn’t stand the silence that followed his absence.

            The first month his knuckles were swollen and bleeding from knocking the shit out of every snitch in Gotham trying to get a lead. He didn’t believe one second that Pyg killed John. He would know, feel it in his gut, if John was truly gone from this world. It was a frustrating business that John had vanished into the manor house and never came back. Forensics and Dick’s own account painted a bleak picture.

            They stood in front of the doors.

            Moment of truth.

            If there was a God Bruce had long forsaken him but in this moment he would do absolutely anything, even ask some pretend otherworldly being, for the body on the slab to be someone else. He would trade his fortune, his home, anything for just one more day with the love of his life.

            _I love you._

            Alfred watched him struggle to move an inch. “Master Bruce-”

            “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

            Bruce shoved the swinging door aside as the smell of formaldehyde assaulted his nose. He flashed back to another time, another visit when he had been a boy and Alfred couldn’t get anyone else to watch him. His heart was still in his mouth.

            “Mr. Wayne, my name’s Alec. I’ll be the one helping you today.” The morgue assistant said nervously gesturing towards the autopsy room.

            “Does he have green hair?” Bruce asked clearing the rather large lump suddenly in his throat. For some reason that was the one thing he seemed to fixate on. Of course the man on the steel table would have green hair, why the fuck would he be here otherwise?

            “He does but we are having a hard time with his prints. Which is why we asked you here today.”

            Bruce took off his sunglasses and approached the steel table. A white sheet was over his body. A hand was the only thing on show for it had slipped out from under the sheet. Bruce’s mind, ever the detective, started cataloging despite his emotional upheaval. Everything was so _clean_. The steel table practically gleamed in the lamplight. The white sheet came from a Wayne Enterprise subsidiary, the weight of the male was 150, the height was 5’6, the skin was pale but off color possibly due to the time submerged in water, the victim-

            John.

            Slowly the assistant peeled back the white sheet. “Take your time Mr. Wayne.”

            The sheet revealed the green hair first and Bruce thought for sure he’d vomit up what little he managed to eat that morning.

            “Stop, stop, I can’t.” He held up his hands as if he could push back what was happening. This was one instance his strength could do nothing to help him.

            He always had a hard time with goodbyes. His parents were one thing. John was a whole other level. They didn’t fall in love at first sight. It grew over time, through the worst Harley had to throw at them and John’s incarceration. He never meant for it to happen, he had no idea that day in Arkham he would meet the one person he simply refused to do without. 

            “Mr. Wayne I know this is difficult but I must insist. We need an identity.”

_Are you stalking me?_

            “I know, I know. Just a moment.” Bruce Wayne was out of moments.

            _I could chew nails with you and it would still be the best experience I’ve had_.

            Memories were the worst part. Like a private picture show those dinners ran on repeat tormenting him at night. The morning after John stayed in his bed his pillows smelled like the citrus shampoo he used. His touch was all over the manor.

            _I’m not…I can’t explain._

            “Ok… ok continue.”

            He still remembered every detail from that morning. John had slept shirtless on his stomach, curled around his pillow, shoulder pulled up to his high cheek bones, green hair spilling across the beige cover. He had woken slowly, opening his bright green eyes and when he caught Bruce watching him he had smiled.

            _So before I bow out I just wanted you to know…I love you._

            The sheet came off.

            Bruce bolted. He burst out of the room, head buried in his hands, shoulder’s shaking as Alfred caught him by his biceps.

            Gordon put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right Bruce.”

            “There, there sir. We will take him home and I will make arrangements.” Alfred soothed as his face turned ashen.

            “It’s not him.” Bruce managed to push through his constricted chest. “It’s not him.”

           

             

 

 

 

            “Hello Bruce.”

            “It’s so good to see you tonight old boy.”

            “Can you believe they let her wear that dress on the red carpet?”

            “That Gucci is divine darling.”

            “Milan was so _boring_ last month.”

            “Singapore is where it’s at.”

            Bruce wanted to stab his ear drums out. How he got corralled into this idea he’ll never know. He could be out at the Elliot cottage, he could be canvassing the five miles radius around river again, studying Waller’s reports to her superiors, take at crack at his snitches once more, _anything_ other than standing alone at a shitty party.

            He normally showed his face at one or two events during the month. He’d come reeking of alcohol, put in a well-placed misogynist joke to ensure he went home alone and make an ass out of himself before quietly slipping away to do real work. If anyone ever accused Bruce Wayne as being Batman then world at large would laugh.

            His heart just wasn’t in it tonight to keep up the facade.

            He stood in a privately owned ski villa overlooking finely combed hills. Even late in the hour people were still sailing down the slopes while everyone else roasted marsh mellows and drank Monte Cristo hot chocolates. Dotted around the large space was ice sculptures lovingly carved with time and patience. They were melting slowly from the large brick fireplace at the back. The Jossans should have moved them to the back of the room closer to the floor to wall windows. Several guests mingled with each other talking of nothing, taking selfies by the chocolate fondue fountain on the left hand side while everyone else slapped each other on the back and paraded their mistresses about like fine breeding mares. A gleam of green caught his eye and his heart gave a sad little lurch before his brain managed to inform the shriveled thing that the flash of green _was jewelry_.

            “Brucie darling, how are you holding up?”

            Fucking perfect, Bunny Carrington was trying to cozy up to him. If he smashed out the window and jumped the thirty foot fall he would only shatter his leg bones.

            It might be worth it.

            “Bunny, how are you?” Bruce asked dully. He never should have come.  

            “Came back from Morocco just last Thursday- oh there you go you _naughty_ boy.” Bunny’s blue eyes flashed mischievously. “Trying to talk about anything else other than yourself.”

            “The papers gave everyone plenty to talk about. About me, Pyg and Tommy.” Bruce graveled unable to sustain his usual empty headed responses.

            “That poor man.” Bunny sighed trying to draw attention to her tight white sweater and the contents within.

            “Which one? There were several victims.” Bruce remarked tiredly. He could feel the shadow of the Bat start to grow. There was an aura that seemed to seep through the air when he started to drift towards the dark. She hadn’t picked up on it.

            “No darling, the man with green hair. The one you took to Giovani six…seven months back. What was his name? The one who died in the Elliot mansion.” Bunny was what Dick lovingly referred to as ‘sloshed as fuck’ from alcoholic hot chocolates, she didn’t see the pained look that crossed his eyes.

            Six months. John was dead and his rational side knew it. It was just the matter of finding his body now and laying him to rest with his parents. They would find him great company and a comfort.

            Bruce had whenever he was around.  

            He cleared his tight throat to deliver the usual spiel. “That was-”

            _My best friend._

            “-he was-”

            _My one shot at any happiness and I ruined it._

            “-well we were-”

            _In love._

            “Dear are you alright?” Bunny was noticing him choking on the words.

            “It’s difficult to talk about.”

             If only the criminal element could see him now, brow beaten and nearly spilling his pathetic guts out to _Bunny_ _Carrington_ of all people.

            “I have a wonderful doctor. He’s not a conventional therapist, he’s actually a psychologist. I can get you an appointment if you desire. Sometimes talking it out with someone outside the box has therapeutic effects.” Bunny handed him a card. Bruce didn’t point out that therapy was talking it out. She may be a social climbing vamp but she was being kind. Taking the card he looked down at the name.

           “Bunny,” Bruce poured on the charm as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her gently to his side, “I think you’re right dear.”

            Bunny’s eyes lit up. “You do?”

           “This has been so stressful, talking to someone would do me a world of good. Do you mind calling him and arranging an appointment?” Bruce asked, his voice on the brink of choking. Alfred said he could have been an Oscar contender.

           “Of course I’ll call him tomorrow-”

          “ _Now dear_ ,” Bruce leaned in and she saw it. The shadow that seemed to cross over his features as Batman handed her his phone.

          “Oh-right-of course darling.”

          She shivered and it wasn’t from the cold air seeping in from the windows.

          “This is Bunny Carrington calling for Dr. Hugo Strange.”

 

 

 

          A week later, the criminal element of Gotham was pissing its collective pants from his mere shadow and he was on his way to a see Dr. Hugo Strange. Dick and Tiffany were on patrol with Alfred keeping an eye on them.

          He kept himself calm by fighting his enemies with everything he had. No longer did John’s absence haunt him. There was a fire lit, burning brightly, for he had seen Dr. Strange’s name appear several times in Waller’s reports. They spoke in code but Bruce’s intuition was keen. He knew a rat when he smelled one.  

         Dr. Strange did not have a practice in Gotham. He was a three hour drive outside its limits, in the country side, only eight miles from a very familiar river. Bruce seemed to drive for hours, the roads were paved two way, and the trees were thick. The only other sign of life was one hour back, a roadside diner. As he pulled up the lane way to the two story mansion he noted the ten foot high solid brick walls. The guard check point that monitored the entire twenty mile lawn to the main house. There were two check lists. The one the guard held was white while the other one was red. Interesting color choice.

         He also noted the assault rifle hanging on the back of the wall. Local wild life did not warrant heavy weaponry.

         “All clear Mr. Wayne. Please continue to the manor house.” The guard pressed his radio. “This is guard tower 5, 443.”

          Code. Military operations. The way the guard moved gave him away. Special ops.

         “Thanks.” Bruce smiled emptily before gunning it down the dirt path.

          The Mediterranean revival style house had long lean glass windows, two floors with a balcony that wrapped around the upper floor. A woman in a white Chanel coat was waiting for him. Her blond hair up in a tight bun.

          “Mr. Wayne, Dr. Strange is most eager to meet you.” She greeted.

          “I’m so thankful he found time to fit me in.” Bruce returned her smile but his was slightly tight.

          “Dr. Strange is a very devoted man to those who suffer. Your recent trials have touched his heart.”

           And his bank account to be sure.

           The woman escorted him up the stone stairway pass the large doors, Bruce noted the security pass she used to unlock them. The entry way was turquois tile, the walls white with a famous painter or two decorating them tastefully. There was also forty pressure sensors, eight security cameras and one dog lounging on a sofa in the other room.

           All the comforts of home.

           “Mr. Wayne I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance.” Dr. Strange had to be a villain. No one made a sweeping entrance like that without some serious flair for evil. His goatee was clean shaven, his clothes were hand made.

           “Dr. Strange, I am deeply grateful.” Bruce gushed clasping his hand. He’s right sleeve pulled up and Bruce noted he had slight bruising on his wrists from someone fighting him off.

           “The gratitude is all mine. I’m humbled you would travel so far for my help. Come, let’s start right away. The sooner we began the healing journey the better you will feel.” Strange rambled as Bruce followed him up to the second story. The office was white, the large black lounge chair was leather. Dr. Strange urged him to sit while he took a seat at his desk.

           “I confess I feel a little weird coming here.” Bruce said as he laid his head back getting comfortable.

           That’s when he smelled it.

           Citrus.

           He resisted the urge to turn and bury his nose in it. It wasn’t furniture lemon cleaner, there was no chemical after smell that followed it. It was him.

           John.

           His heart started to pound, heat pooled in his stomach inappropriately but that smell did things to him. It set his blood on fire and ghost kisses all the way down his back. He could almost feel John sitting next to him on the couch.

          “Sadly the stigma with mental health will always be present.” Dr. Strange frowned.

          “I have to ask, what cleaner do you use? Your couch smells great.” Bruce chuckled and ducked his head as if he was nervous. Trying to put off the session and resist the ‘help’ Strange was showering him with.

          “Oh you must forgive me. One of my patients has a condition.” Dr. Strange shrugged good naturally.

          “A condition?” Bruce asked.

          “And unfortunate incident left him with the strange ability to leave a scent from his hair. Poor soul, no matter what he does, no matter what shampoo, he always smells like citrus. I can have the couch replaced.” Dr. Strange was studying him intently.

        “If it’s not too much trouble.” Bruce replied without hesitation. He wanted to cut out the scent with a knife and keep it on him but that would alert Strange. They might move John to another location.

        “Bruce are you alright? You’re tense? Does citrus remind you of past trauma?”

_I’m going to make you spit teeth, eat food through a tube, and piss blood for months on end if you hurt one green hair on his head._

       “Yes, my mother’s choice of perfume.” Bruce lied as he eased back down and inhaled the scent subtly through his nose.

_I’ll find you._

        Dr. Strange made a note. “Very good, now about your mother, let’s start the healing journey there.”


	8. The Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's going to spend the rest of his life in a cage. 
> 
> Thank God for that.

            There was a certain grace to being mad.

            “So Hester, how’s it going?” John asked the sobbing person in the cell left to him, eyeing the rows upon rows of cells just like his through his glass cell door. They climbed all the way to his ceiling and he could see no more. Guards with assault rifles walked patrols. The inmates shrank from them.

            John’s hands were black and blue from being beaten by their batons. He had made a quip about men with small dicks and large clubs.

            Apparently they didn’t find that funny. Everyone’s a critic.

            “How about you Lester?” John asked the man to his right.

            A furious scream answered and the glass shook from blows.

            “Good for you, stick it to the man!” John encouraged as peals of laughter followed. Honestly these guys were a riot.

            “I see you’re having fun,” Dr. Strange with his funny round glasses and his ridiculous goatee were back. The needle bruising all around his elbows ached from his voice. He knew what was coming. The monster sluggishly resigned its self for another dose of whatever they were pumping him full.

            The pills had been heaven.

            The needles were hell.

            He ran a hand through his hair only to feel the stubble. Sometime during the countless hours, days and weeks he had spent in Waller’s prison he had lost his hair. They must have shaved his head or it fell out from John digging his fingers into his skull from the headache he had the first couple of weeks.

            “Is Bruce coming to take me to dinner?” John asked as the nurse approached. His neck was still stiff from being held down during the injection process.

            “No dear boy. He is not.” Hugo sighed rolling his eyes upward as the nurse attacked, kicking John down.

            _Wham!_

            He hit the floor on his left side.

            _Smack!_

            His lip burst as blood flew across the ground. _So pretty_. 

            The straight jacket was next. This was the worst part. Not the beatings, they were common place. It was the feeling of being trapped. Constricted.

            “Please don’t do this. I’m a good boy. Scouts honor.” John begged eyes unfocused as the nurse jabbed his neck. His stomach rolled.

             When was the last time he had a decent meal? It was on a balcony high above the streets. Gotham a glittering ocean of lights below his feet. Bruce tenderly thumbing the scar on his hand.

            “I wish I could believe that John.” Hugo sighed. “But you nearly beat a man to death the last time we decided to trust you.”

            John’s mouth turned down bitterly as he tried to recall. He couldn’t. His mind was a maze with the monster in the middle. His conscious had fucked off to somewhere and no matter how many messages he left it, it would not return his calls.

            “I don’t know…I don’t remember…” John hung his bald head eyes darting back and forth. “Will Bruce come by? I miss him.”

            Hugo patted his shoulder. “John do you remember what we last talked about?”

            They had sat on a black couch, John could swear he saw red eye balls peek out beneath the seams. Jesus what where they doing to him.

            “No I… can’t remember.” Now came the rolling waves of warmth lulling him into sleep. Such a beautiful thing. An escape out of this mess. He tried to escape two times before. The last attempt he lured a guard in with his pretty green eyes with promises of a blow job before taking his boot knife and stabbing him in the stomach. He hadn’t gotten very far and weeks had passed when he woke up from the beating. Time was all relative in hell.

            It never passed.

            “We were talking about Bruce Wayne and how fixated you were with him.” Hugo sat him up next to a wall so cold it burned on contact.

            “I’m not the one who’s obsessed.” John shook his head as a guard walked by. He knew that for a fact. While John loved Bruce, Hugo wanted to _be_ him.

            “I think it’s time for another session.” Hugo announced as he snapped his fingers.

            “Oh come on Strange, take a joke.” John whined as they hauled him to his bare feet. The thin rug in his cell could do nothing for the chill but it was something. Out there, in the halls it was concrete. A two mile stretch of hell. On the left hand side was the elevator that came to Hugo’s therapy office on the second floor of the manor house. On the right was the large door to Corpse Mountain. Capital C and capital M.

            Hundreds of bodies from those who didn’t survive testing or hung themselves to escape. They all ended up there. John shuddered and the guard on his right shifted his hand on his elbow to his shoulder and squeezed. Not enough to hurt. John admitted that he liked the feeling of those fingers, a large palm. He could pretend it was Bruce.

            “Do you even remember Pyg?” Hugo asked as he walked in front of John. Zeus visiting the mortals, how they bowed and begged for his mercy.

            “Who?” John inquired.

            “The man you killed.” Hugo responded.

            John remembered a flash of pig face drowning in water, computer chips circling his head like a twisted techno halo.

            “I killed him?” John questioned.

            “Yes and his toad.”

            John reared back, a Toad face with empty eyes flashed across his vision. The guard held him firm. His touch still so gentle.

            John leaned his head against the hand briefly. For a moment it smelled like Gotham. “I don’t-”

            “Yes, yes, we’ve heard this all before. You don’t have multiple personalities John. You just have one but you’ve been subjected to severe trauma. Your ability to repress it all is remarkable. You have a keen ability to compartmentalize which will make you useful once we break you and build you up again.” Hugo continued to speak as they came close to the elevator. John’s feet were numb with cold. It hurt to take a step but he kept walking, even if his feet bled.

            “You don’t have to hurt me Strange.” John said as he stepped into the round, white, plastic elevator.

            “Of course not,” Strange admitted, “but I want too.”

            The guard on his right whirled and with a loud _crack_ knocked his fellow squad mate down for the count.

            “No-”

            The elevator doors swung quickly to shut Hugo off. John turned his head to stare into the eyes of the guard. They were Rome on fire, agony and rage roiling around the streets. John wanted to dive head first into the chaos.

            “Bruce?”

            The guard pulled his face mask off and his rounded helmet.

            “Batman.” John grinned, blood leaking from the break on his lower lip. “Are we finally going to dinner?”

            Batman ripped the rest of the guard gear off as he took Batarangs out of his pouch and tossed them at the security devices in the small space.

            “Sorry I’m late dear.” Bruce said as he stopped the elevator by ripping out the control panel and frying the circuits. He whirled John around, making him lean his head against the warm plastic of the wall, and pulled the straight jacket off. Ripping the leather straps clean away from the white cotton material. Stripped of the jacket, panting from the release John looked coyly over his shoulder.

            “Don’t stop there, we’re just getting started.” He smile was all come hither.

            Batman’s hand shook as an arm wrapped around his chest.

            “Forgive me.”

            The pinch of the needle on his thigh was nothing new. The lack of trust was. Whirling away John slapped the syringe out of his hand as his blood raced.

            “ _What did you do?”_ He demanded holding his neck, face twisted and ugly.

            “What I had too. It’s a concentrated dose of antipsychotics.” Batman graveled.

            “And you wonder why people have such a fucking hard time trusting you!” John howled in his face and flinched when Batman looked away. Immediately shame filled him. He framed his heroic jaw in a crushing grip. “Forgive me, please forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I swear.”

            He wrapped his arms around his neck, leaned into those mouthwatering shoulders.

            “Let me make it up to you,” John whispered across his lips, “by giving you anything you want. Ass, hand, mouth, you name it, it’s all _yours_ baby. Just like me.”

            Batman yanked back. “It’s not the right time.”

            “I always knew you thought you were too good for me.” John sniffed disdain oozing from every pore.

            “You’re crazy, I adore you. Let’s put this on pause and resume when Strange and Waller aren’t _going to kill us_.” Batman suggested getting his heroic mojo back. God how could John resist. That was the problem, he couldn’t.

            “I can never stay mad at you.” John purred eyes blazing brightly. He was getting into those tights by the end of the night or his name wasn’t John Doe.

            He nearly jumped out of his skin. He remembered, his mind clearing the fog, burning down the maze, muzzling the monster. Minute by minute he came aware of himself once again.

            “So darling, how are we blowing this Popsicle stand?” John asked mind piecing its self-back together after months of misuse.

            “We walk out the front door.” Batman smirked.

            “Blowing it up is a lot more fun.” John remarked as the elevator doors swung open. A guard shoved a gun into his face and John popped his hands up in reaction.

            Batman moved around him to slap the barrel away from his face. Vibrating with barely suppressed rage he attacked, there were four people in the room. Spread out at the exits. Like a well-oiled machine, they moved. John hurdled the couch and caught a mask in his hand slamming the head off the wall while Batman kicked out the knee of the person next to them. John ducked a strike to his jaw as Batman took the offending hand and twisted the wrist until bone broke. The noise of shrieking agony made John’s heart jolt in excitement.

            Oh he was getting some tonight.

            A Batarang took out the last one. Batman grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the staircase. In the foyer the police were breaking down the door, the security force was chasing the Batmobile around the snow covered lawn. Anarchy at its finest.

            “Gordon where are you?” Batman slapped his hand to his ear. The voice replying was too low to hear. “Get here as soon as you can. You can bet Waller is on her way.”

            John cocked his head. “What the hell is Gordon doing here?”

            Batman seemed to steel himself before he answered tersely. “To arrest you for Pyg’s murder.”

            John graced him with a flabbergasted look. “I’m sorry what?”

            “He can claim jurisdiction over you and wrestle your custody out of this place.” Batman ducked a baton to his head and slammed his elbow into the guard’s stomach sending him flying backwards down the stairs. He knocked a few cops on their asses, usually John would be in stitches but his heart was far too shattered to find anything funny about this.

            “I _can’t_ believe-oh fuck it. I believe it. You would do this! Take me out of prison to throw me back in!” John tossed his hands up.

            “So you told him.” Dick dropped from a hatch in the ceiling. “I told you to keep it under wraps.”

            “Short round.” John greeted fondly before he grabbed the little kid by the back of his head and swung him down to dodge a sloppy right hook to the back of his head. Dick kept the momentum and dropped down to kick the man’s ankles out while John delivered a sharp hook to the head.

            “I refuse to lie to someone I care about.” Batman stated as Gordon burst in with reinforcements. Batman lunged and grabbed Dick and John by their waists, tossing them to the ground. He shielded them from stray gun fire with his cape.

            “For the record Chuckles I wanted to hide you in the cave. I was vetoed by Alfred.” Dick grumbled as he took a knife out and tossed it into an assault rifle, causing the casing to malfunction.

            “That was not a feasible plan. I want us to be a family. Hiding a part of that family in the dark is not only morally wrong but detrimental to John’s mental health.” Batman explained before jumping to his feet and wrestling with a stray guard determined to make a name for himself. Dick jumped, grabbed the guys thigh with his hands and proceeded to kick his helmet over and over before he toppled. The acrobat rolled away before Batman picked up the body and tossed it back into the office before slamming the doors shut. 

            “For all my power,” Batman took John's hand gently tangling their fingers, “I cannot provide you with the help you need.”

            “Screw that,” John hissed gripping his hand with all the strength he had left, “I want to rewind a little bit. To the bit where you want us to be a family.”

            Bruce’s eyes were soft behind the cowl. “I meant what I said. This is the only way John. Only if you agree to serve your sentence, take your pills and attend Dr. Leland’s session, can we finally be what we were meant to be.”

            Together.

            John had known unlimited freedom. He cast off the chains of society, spat in the face of expectations and murdered without limit. He could burn down this prison, add more to Corpse Mountain and not feel a damned thing. To love Bruce, to build this family with him would be an eternal damnation. He would knowingly cage himself forever.

            The monster recoiled at the thought, _no! no! NO! NO!_

The man he was peppered kisses all over Batman’s face, eyes welling up with tears that streaked down his face. “Yes, take me away. Cage me forever and throw away the key. I’d rather be sane with you than crazy without.”

            “Fuck yes chuckles!” Dick shouted pumping his fist in the air. John smirked as held out his hand and brought the little kid to his side. Tiffany swung in through the front door, making a hole to John for Gordon to pass through.

             Batman took his hand. Moment of truth.

            “John Doe, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of one Professor Pyg.” Gordon flashed his badge as the rest of the police force swung in subduing Waller’s forces. John turned around offering his wrists.   

               

                

  

 

 

            “You don’t have to wait.” John had two dosages. He flicked in and out between the monster and himself. It would go back to its drug induced coma in a month for good.

            “Don’t say that love.” Bruce whispered in his ear. They were in front of the police station. Gordon waiting for them. Bruce had his grey suit jacket around his white prison uniform. Once they hit the city limits Waller could not touch him. Gordon had him arrested for the murder of one Lazlo Valentin also known as Professor Pyg.

            “It’s manslaughter Bruce.” John pointed out.

            “You weren’t in your right mind.” Bruce argued holding him close so John could soak up all his strength. Dick was in the car, sleeping. John didn’t have it in him to wake him for the good bye. Tiffany was leaning on the car with a foot popped frowning in his direction. No one was happy with this outcome but it was the only way.

            “You see, here’s the thing babe.” John laid his head on his chest as those strong arms clenched tighter. “Even with the insanity plea, if it works, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever get out.”

            “I’ll still wait.”

            “So stubborn.”

            “Remember that book of poetry I lent you?”

            “Mind lending to it to me again? I’ll have plenty of time to look it over again.”

            “My father wrote an inscription to my mother on the inside cover. Do you remember the words?”

            Of course he did.

            John recited. “Ever thine, ever mine…”

            “Ever ours.” Bruce brushed his lips over John’s and God help him he could not resist. In the view of the people on the street, who noticed his scrubs, in front of Gordon who must be shocked, Bruce made his promise. He sealed it by winding his pinky finger around Johns.

            Breaking away John left him on the steps as Gordon opened the door.

            “Don’t tell me he’s good at that too.” The commissioner stated sourly.

            “Absolutely awful.” John responded, obviously lying through his fucking teeth. Gordon shot him an amused look as they approached the front desk chuckling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters left-whew! I've come to realize I can't write Batman. Bruce, for sure, Batman not so much. Thank you to all those who commented and and left Kudos. I will be posting regularly again after this.


	9. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Bruce are going through a role reversal. Bruce is the one pining and John is the one hesitating. 
> 
> And Arkham's the only thing between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I orignally planned to end this chapter with a bang and well deserved sexy fun times but it just didn't fit the sweetness of it all so I updated the tags. Sorry readers I just changed the story far too much to fit it in. 
> 
> So I split it into two. The next chapter is more of an epilogue. Thank you for comments and Kudos

      The gavel bang echoed around the chamber.

      “We pronounce Mr. John Doe guilty of voluntary manslaughter of one Lazlo Valentin.”

      John shuttered his eyes as if he could stop the words from reaching him. Around him the courtroom exploded into cheers and shouts of protests. The cameras were watching for every reaction he would make. There was nothing left for him to give. He was numb to it. It was kind of funny he was going up the river over a man that killed nearly sixty people in cold blood. 

      “Bullshit!”

      John swung around to see Dick nearly leaping over the wooden railing to attack the judge. Alfred snatched him back and pushed him into his seat with a warning glance. John could only bear to look at Bruce for a moment because his chest constricted at the sight of him. He hung his head and gripped the wooden railing with all his strength.

      It was always a long shot but Bruce’s highly paid team of lawyers had assured Mr. Wayne they could win or at least barter down the sentence to a lighter charge.

      Waller had fucked him again. Or perhaps the notoriety of Professor Pyg’s crimes in Gotham forced the judge to make an example of him.   

       “The sentence is eleven years hard time in Arkham Asylum. No chance of early parole.”

       Now John’s heart stopped beating. He swallowed thickly. They were throwing the book at him and making it stick. Eleven years. He swung around to glance at Bruce. If his dark knight had been hurt from the verdict, the sentence devastated him. He actually took a step back, blue eyes wide.

      “WHAT!” Dick screamed tossing his arms up and this time Alfred joined him.

      “He was mentally unstable and defending himself! This is a travesty!” The old butler accused the judge.

       Bruce remained mute.

       John privately knew what they meant for them. As they moved forward to take his arms and escort him to his transport he took his chance. He did so in the name of love.

      Bruce was just twenty one, he would be thirty-two when John got out. Arkham inmates were not allowed conjugal visits. Despite his promise to wait John could not take the disappointment of being forgotten.

       As soon as he was close enough he lashed out, gripping Bruce’s jacket lapels in his hands and holding on as his guard tried to pry his vice like grip loose. The man in question seemed to snap back to reality when John caught his eye and held it.

      He was aware the whole courtroom was watching them. There were rumors of their relationship but nothing they could prove. In his desperation to free Bruce of any oath he took John confirmed their suspicions.

      “Forget all the promises you made me, forget me, and never come to Arkham.” John pleaded eyes starting to well. “ _I don’t want you_.”

      They yanked him off Bruce who snatched his wrists to hold him. John refused to catch his eye and drag it out. It took two teams to work him loose. One wrapped around his middle and another trying to pull Bruce off him. All the while Dick was hurling profanities at the guards and Alfred was keeping him out of the mosh pit that formed around the two of them. They finally managed to drag him towards the prisoner transport. Bruce held on by the skim of his fingers until the bitter end.

       It was over. Time to pay the piper and one day, sometime off in the distant future, he would hear how happy Bruce Wayne was. Married to some girl the public loved, raising a family as was expected of him, and being the beacon of light John knew he was.

       He wouldn’t remember John Doe.

      Back to square one all over again.      

 _Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours._ His conscious whispered comfortingly as they loaded him in the back of the truck.

 _Where the fuck have you been?_ John shot back with a slight smile. At least he’d have company.

 

 

 

 

 

        “John there’s someone here to see you.” Dr. Leland announced as John winced and pulled his legs up to his chest. God couldn’t the hot billionaire taking a fucking hint. It. Was. OVER.

        But _noooooo,_ he had to send wild flowers every three days, not just a small bouquets either. These were large expensive ones with pink star gazer lilies, orange roses, yellow sunflowers and blue gardenia. Fucking thought went into these gorgeous arrangements to make them as bright as possible.

        That was torture in its self. Then the letters started and added a whole new layer of hell. Not just the standard ‘how’s prison treating you?’ That would have been a relief. These were epic long, deeply personal, heart rendering passages of a romance so beautiful it was painful to read. It ripped his heart out every time he got one and yet he couldn’t wait for the next. One of these days these gifts would stop. It was just a matter of time before he gave up.

        His conscious put its face into its palm muttering _idiot_.  

        “I’m not interested.” John forced himself to say head hung. Shoulders tense as his stomach clenched unpleasantly.

        “John perhaps you should tell Mr. Wayne that and stop this. It’s getting out of hand.” Dr. Leland insisted. “Confronting Bruce and urging him to stop would be therapeutic.”

        If John was in the same room with Bruce he’d drop to his knees and beg forgiveness.

        “I’m not strong enough doc. We both know I’m in for a good long time.” John turned to look at her beseechingly. He needed her to be the strong one here. “What do you always say?”

        “That he is young. That suppressing his natural urges would lead to disappointment. On his end and yours. I believe you are doing the right thing for both of you but I can’t help but feel perhaps….I was wrong.” Dr. Leland said helplessly. “It’s been months John and he refuses to let you go.”

       Bruce could not and would not go eleven fucking years without sex or intimacy of any kind. To expect him too was insane. He was a bit of an expert about that.

       “He’ll stop soon.” John mentioned and it took everything in his power not to cave. “Send him away.”

        She left and once she was out of view John scurried over to the last window in the lounge room. The corner faced the parking lot. Sure enough Bruce emerged minutes later, head hung, hands in his pockets.

 _Just go away._ John urged. _It’s ok to let me go and live your life._

        However he watched long after the Porsche had left the parking lot.  

 

 

 

 

          Augustus Krenal was a hard man. Mafia muscle for the Falcone crime family, in Arkham because he had no problems with busting heads open. The docs said he was a psychopath. He was six foot four, two hundred and fifty pounds of raw muscle. So intimidating the rest of the crazies left him alone.

         He did not normally get visits and certainly not from boy billionaires like Bruce Wayne.

        “Mr. Wayne.” Augustus greeted with a nod of his head as he sat down. Wayne looked haggard. Eyes rimmed with bags and hair a damn mess as if he had raked his hands through it several times.

        “Mr. Krenal, you’re probably wondering why I’m here?” Wayne stated taking a seat at the white plastic table.

        “Thought crossed my mind.” Augustus shrugged.

       “Did you hear what happened to John Doe?” Wayne’s hands clenched at the question. John was a right sweetheart. Crazy but he was on medication that made him docile. He was shanked two days ago in the showers.

       “Yes I did Mr. Wayne.” Augustus wondered why this mattered. “Are you interested in who did it?”

        Some of John’s fans were taking it hard. The Pyg murders were Gotham legend now and some firmly believed John had been in the right to drown the pig. They sent cards and flowers on top of the ones he received from some dude that wanted to bone him. It was a little touching if it wasn’t so sad. Poor guys been sending them for a full year now.

       “I know who did it.” Bruce’s smile turned feral and suddenly a chill was in the air.

       “Then what am I doing here?” Augustus asked spreading his hands.

       “I will pay you three hundred and fifty thousand dollars if you keep the guards off me. No killing or no bonus.” Bruce shed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up.

       “I’m sorry?” Augustus asked as the door opened and his head turned to find Mike Lores swaggering in. The same Mike Lores had stabbed John Doe two days prior in the showers. Suddenly it all made sense.

       “You’re the dude who loves him.” Augustus’s jaw dropped.

       “Yeah, any homophobia here?” Wayne asked rolling his neck joints out.

       “Nope.”

       “Any problems with my request?”

       “Have the funds transferred to my offshore accounts in Jamaica.”

       “Done.”

        Lores was sitting at a table with suits when Wayne marched right up to him and slammed his fist into Lores’s head making the white bitch tumble off his perch. Augustus caught the guard rushing over by the stomach and knocked his head off the ground as Wayne gripped Lores by the shoulders and rolled them backwards before kicking him into the table with a loud whack. Lores slammed off the side of the table and hit the floor like a rock.

       The suits surged towards him, three on one but boy billionaire wasn’t taking any of their shit. While Augustus caught a guard and wrestling him to the ground, Wayne kicked out the knee of one suit, slammed his fist into the other and with a slick move kicked the back of the last agents head. They crumbled to the ground clutching their wounds while Wayne stepped around them. Fury vibrating through his tightly coiled muscles as he approached Lores who at this point was scurrying back.

       “I got no beef with you dude!” Lores spat through blooded teeth. Wayne nailed his nose and sent him flying back.

       “Then you shouldn’t go around stabbing people.” Wayne graveled and Augustus was having a hard time reconciling what he was seeing. Who did this dude think he was? Batman?

       “Waller made me do it!” Lores howled as Wayne picked him up by the back of his neck and slammed it into the table. Augustus let go of the knocked out guard and tackled the one sneaking up on Wayne.

        “Waller?” He let out a dark chuckle. “Waller is in Washington and the only person you should fear, right now, _is me!_ ”

         He pulled a ninja moved. Bruce Wayne, the Bruce Wayne, pulled a ninja move. Augustus Krenal would tell the story for as long as he lived. He watched as Bruce pulled Lores to his feet before an airborne kick sent him hurtling backwards to skid across the cement flooring. By the time he was done Wayne’s knuckles were swollen and blood was all over his pristine white shirt.

        The guards finally managed to subdue him as Lores laid in a pool of his own blood.

        “I trust I made my point.” Wayne gritted out before he calmly submitted to the guards. “No harm comes to John Doe or something much worse than me will come for you.”  

          It was a solid three weeks before Augustus, now three hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer, ran into John Doe. Skinny little guy with bright green eyes and shoulder length green hair.

         “Hey man.” Augustus said making Doe turn around.

         “Yes?” Doe asked cautiously.

         “Bruce Wayne kicked the shit out of Mike Lores, sent him to the hospital.” Augustus shrugged. “Maybe you should go see him when he comes around.”

         John gave a start before he hugged himself nodding his head in agreement.     

 

 

 

 

          Bruce was standing in court. The same court that had sentenced John to eleven years without parole. It was even the same judge. He took deep breaths for all his efforts were about to pay off and the rush of adrenaline nearly made his hands shake. Gordon was in the first row to make sure justice would be served.

          All of this was for John. Alfred had been concerned his personal vendetta on crime would be put on hold due to his unending sadness over his love affair turned sour. If anything it just made him work harder, be stronger, and to this very day one year and half after John sent him away he still signed his letters with his promise. 

_Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours._

         “Mr. Wayne, you are charged with assault intending to cause bodily harm. How do you plead?” Judge Janice McKenzie might have been a good judge but Waller had seen her fall from grace.

         “I’m as guilty as you are.” Mr. Wayne caught the attention of the court reporter on the left hand side. He could feel Gordon’s smile at his back.

         “I’m sorry?” Judge McKenzie asked aghast.

         “No, you’re not.” Bruce replied as he cocked an eyebrow. “Justice may be blind but she sure as shit isn’t stupid. You are not sorry but after I’m done presenting evidence you will be.”

         She banged her gavel. “I will have order in this court. I am not on trial.”

         “But you are.” Bruce argued as he took the file folder with all the interesting stuff, approached the bench and tossed it in her face. “Let the record show Justice Janice McKenzie took a fifty million dollar bribe to sentence a poor mentally ill man to Arkham.”

         “Mr. Wayne!”

         “Let the record also show that wasn’t a denial.” Bruce shrugged before he leaned in and caught her eyes. He saw it, guilt and shame. Fear of exposure. He was numb to her ‘suffering’ when John was facing something much worse. He was shanked in a shower for God’s sake and it was dear Janice McKenzie who put him there.

         “You are in contempt of court!” McKenzie stood up in an attempt to flee.

         “This court no longer recognizes your power.” Gordon slowly climbed to his feet leafing through the evidence Bruce had collected all these long cold nights. Sleeping on his side of the bed and reaching out in the morning for someone who just wasn’t there.

        “Such a pity Janice. After all your years of service.” Gordon informed her as he motioned for the guards to cut off her escape route.

        “You’re still be held accountable for assault Mr. Wayne.” Janice snarled.

        “Mr. Lores is no longer pressing charges.” Bruce grinned. “See you next Wednesday at your bail arraignment. I’m going for the sole reason of watching your face as it’s denied.”

        Bruce also had his team of lawyers launching an assault on the offices of the DA for gross negligence and bribery. Once he was done he would sweep into Arkham and take back what was rightfully his. Make no mistake John was his. To protect, to love, and take care of. He did not enter this relationship lightly. The only saving grace John had was the lack of physical intimacy. Once they were together, truly together, Bruce would never be a bachelor again. Marriage was only a formality once the last steps were taken.

        For the first time in months he had a slight smile on his face. Waller was going to have an awful morning. 

 

 

 

 

 

            John stood in front of the white door to the private visiting room. It had been nearly two years since he saw Bruce. He saw him in grainy black and white photos in the newspaper. In dashing colors while he slept. He heard about him from when Dick visited. He kept tabs on Batman through the jailhouse grapevine. Now he was actually going to see him again. His palms were sweaty. There was a lump in his throat.

            Taking the bull by the horns he pushed the door open to the simple, plain, white room. He counted. Four cameras, two guards, and one beautiful man.

            Bruce had been pacing for he stopped mid stride to catch his eye. There were subtle differences now. Bruce had put on some bulk. He was cutting his hair closer to his head. But his lips were still the same and so was the way he devoured John with his eyes.

            Time had not changed them and distance would not kill their connection. It drew them together like gravity.

            John was moving before rational thought could stop him. He was half way across the room before the guards even flinched. They fell towards each other, crashing their mouths together in a hungry frenzy. John clutching Bruce around his neck, Bruce digging his fingers into his back and hauling him up against his body.

            All was forgiven without exchanging a word.  

            “Hey! Five seconds of touching only!” One guard got within five feet before Bruce rounded on him.

            “I will pay you five thousand dollars for eight more minutes.”

            John chuckled as he nipped playfully at his neck. The world in the palm of his hand.

            The guards exchanged a look. One said. “I-”

            “Ten thousand dollars.”

            The other guard clapped his friend on the back. “Thanks Mr. Wayne. Enjoy yourself.”

            John didn’t hear the door close and open again. Bruce was shoving his tongue back into his mouth and all thoughts of ‘over payment’ were gone. He was dying for some privacy.

            “Come home with me.” Bruce begged taking a moment to breathe.

            John was all smiles as he nodded his head and kissed Bruce’s hands unable to properly trust his voice.

            “Marry me.”

            John felt the ring slide up his finger and he nearly kneeled over after catching sight of the two green emerald rows set against black gold when he raised it.

            “Yes, God yes.” He managed to croak out before yanking Bruce down again to show how fucking much he loved it. They made damn good use of those expensive minutes.

            He flashed his ring on his release day for all the press to see. Wearing a checkered black and red flannel coat, red make up on his eyes and Bruce Wayne on his arm. He was not the normal they wanted but he didn’t care. He was about to be John Doe Wayne. Normal was now his to define. 

             

 

 

 

 

 

           Bunny Carrington was on pins and needles as she sorted through her mail. She just had to be invited. She _just had too_. Brucie wouldn’t leave her hanging. He couldn’t, not after all she did for him. This was the social event of the season, the crème de la crème of society would be there. Eligible men from the highest echelons were attending. Oil barons, old money, handsome trust funds, a few Saudi princes, CEO’s of companies that made millions. She just had to be there to snag another husband.

          It was farfetched she’d ever entice Bruce Wayne when he was so in love with his boyfriend. The only event he attended was John’ birthday bash held in his honor as he wasted away in Arkham and only because he hosted it to raise money for the mentally ill. She donated nearly fifty five thousand every time he threw the party. Everyone did while Bruce would smile at them emptily and let some well-placed sarcastic comments drive off the hungry mob of women looking to take John’s place.

          No one ever did and he faithfully went to Arkham for their visits until John’s early release two years later. The last birthday bash had been a whopper when John was actually there to enjoy it. They had managed to raise nearly a billion that night.

          Because Bruce loved him, Gotham loved him too. John’s clothes were eccentric, he was suddenly the trend setter for the season. His ‘go green’ campaign had celebrities dying their hair on social media to match his. People wanted to be him, companies wanted him to model their wears and through it all Bruce Wayne remained besotted as ever. Bunny was dying to know John’s secret.    

         She just had to be invited to their wedding. She just had to be.  

        Suddenly it was there. Creamy paper, silken to the touch. Her heart started to hammer as she ripped the envelope open.

_Bruce Wayne cordially invites-_

       “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

        Bunny’s scream could be heard from three floors down her expensive townhouse as she immediately took note of the time and date. They were getting married in July, that left her five months to book her hair, her nails, her plastic surgery, plan her outfit and then scan the guest list for all the men that were attending.

        Goodbye debt. Hello money bags! God bless Bruce Wayne and his future husband! 

 

 

        Epilogue

   

 

           

            John married Bruce on the warmest day in July under a sunflower arch in the backyard of Wayne Manor. The grooms wore matching white silk shirts, black slacks and were bare feet on the grass. Dick was the best man to both of them and Alfred escorted Mr. Wayne down aisle dabbing his eyes. This was the day before the pompous wedding ceremony that had consumed their lives for the last five months was to take place.

            Like everything else in his life Mr. Wayne kept this sacred thing private among his friends.

            There had been Alfred, Dick, Tiffany and Gordon in attendance. 

            Just as the sun broke over Gotham Bruce took John’s pale hands in his own sliding a black gold wedding band into place.

            “Do you Bruce take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

            There would be more trials, more challenges, in the road ahead. Waller, Bane, and Harley were the big ones. Bane was the constant rival to Batman, nearly toppling the house of Wayne in his never ending crusade to own Gotham. Waller had her own way of paying back what the boys did to her and it took every ounce of intelligence to keep John out of Arkham again. There was the war games, Crane, Arkham City, and a slew of case work in between those that filled their years.  

            They had their own battles to wage inside the family home and yet the Wayne house stood strong in the face of adversity. Dick would fight to assert his independence. It took everything John had to keep their family together. After Dick came Jason. Bane would destroy him, nearly ending their marriage in the process when John refused his medication and tried to murder Bane in retaliation. Tiffany had stopped him just in time and she took the mantle of Robin for a brief time.

            “I do.”

            “Do you John take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

            Then came Stephanie and Tim, Duke and Cassandra. Finally filling the manor with laughter again. Jason would return to the fold with John’s help after his startling recovery from death. That was the year Alfred passed and Bruce got his first gray hair.

            “I do. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

            “Not sorry about that.”

            Last but not least came Terry Doe Wayne. Superman’s wedding gift. A cloning chamber and an egg picked at random. Terry was theirs through and through. John had never known joy like that or heart break when Bruce realized he was too old to put in the fight. He passed the cowl to Dick. Tiffany became the new Nightwing in his stead, Terry his robin. As for John and Bruce, they became guardians to the younger generation as more villains rose to claim Gotham as their own.

            “Then I now pronounce you husband and husband.”

            There were highs and there were lows but as always there was hope even in the darkest night. The monster was always at John’s doorstep but as the years passed it became a shadow of what it once was.

            John never murdered another soul.

            “Go on kiss him!”

            “Which one?’

            “Both of them!”

            It wasn’t anywhere near normal but to the day he died John knew it to be perfect.

            Bruce pulled him close. “Ever thine, ever mine.”

            John whispered across his lips. “Ever ours.”      

           

            The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Storylines that were dropped that were originally included in the first draft.  
> 1\. Gordon would bring case work to John's attention while inside. He is an incredible criminal profiler.  
> 2\. Picking a school with Bruce for Dick.  
> 3\. Alfred visiting John.  
> 4\. Gotham going absolutely nuts over his wedding-before I brought back Bunny to drive the point across. It was rather silly. Bunny was still silly but in a more meaningful way.  
> 5\. The sex scene-perhaps I'll post the chapter as a seperate one after this. Dunno. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	10. John Doe Got Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So just what happened the day John Doe stood in the backyard of Wayne manor in the morning and married Bruce? 
> 
> As it turns out. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. I started writing some fluff and bam! I had this marathon of short story suddenly pop up. I'm SO SORRY.
> 
> Hopefully people enjoy where it goes.

 

 

            John held Bruce’s hand as they walked back down the aisle, Gordon and Dick applauding so loud the sound echoed around the empty green yards. Tiffany was whooping as Alfred rushed by to pick up a paper bag and toss rice all over their heads making Bruce pull John back in for a kiss. Lips dancing across each other, John tangled his hands into his hair while Bruce dipped him.  

            What was their rehearsal day had become their wedding day. Now they just had to endure the second wedding tomorrow in the face of the wealthy elite.

            “Ok! Everyone back to the manor!” Alfred shouted as he gestured to the cleaning staff in the background to rearrange the used chairs and clean up the rice. John couldn’t help the smile on his face as he followed Bruce back up the gentle slope towards the veranda. Behind them Wayne 3 was slowly making its way to drop anchor in deep water. John glanced back at the elaborate glass and wood boat house two miles down the grassy well-groomed yard. A cigar boat was tied to the deck ready to carry the newlyweds away to the yacht after they were done dancing the night away with their guests’ tomorrow night. They were fleeing Gotham for a month to the Bahamas.   

            It was hard to believe he had woken in Arkham five months ago. If he was dreaming let the Gods be merciful and never wake him.  

            “Master John if you would be so kind.” Alfred held out his hand. John sighed heavily before removing his engagement ring and then his wedding band. He slipped the engagement ring back on the second he was able too.

            “Couldn’t we just say we’re afraid to lose them?” Bruce suggested without any real hope.

            “Master Bruce several notable people will be in attendance tomorrow. It would damage Wayne Enterprises if they knew they were attending a _second_ wedding.” Alfred pointed out.

            John flushed their bodies together and kissed his lips fleetingly. “It’s only a day more.”

            Bruce nodded as he reluctantly handed over the black gold band. Alfred tucked them into his suit jacket as a crowd of people started to arrange the outside bar on the large forty foot veranda. The color for the wedding was gold, black and white. There was still so much to do. In the ballroom the tables were being assembled. The head table moved onto a second stage up from the ground.

            “Why are you even doing this?” Dick whined. “I swear if you two get any more mushy I’m gonna loose breakfast.”

            Bruce shot their adoptive son a fond look. “When it is your turn Dick-”

            “Gross.”

            “-you will understand the obligations of our family name. You will have to go through all this as well.”

            Dick rounded on John. “Are you sure you want to do this? This family is a little fucked up.”

            John barked a laugh as he leaned his head on Bruce’s shoulder. “I could not ask for better. Now come on it’s our first day as a married couple. What the hell are we going to do?”

            “Case work,” Gordon grinned. “Nothing gets the blood pumping like a good old fashion collar.”

            “Eat cake!” Dick smirked as he grabbed a white cupcake with black icing off a tray. The black icing had been glazed with a gold glitter sauce. Alfred snatched it out of his hands and handed it back to the server.

            “Dance the afternoon away.” Tiffany suggested as she twirled and nearly collided with table.

            “Or start the honeymoon early,” Bruce whispered in the shell of John’s ear melting his insides.

            “You will follow royal protocol and remained separated for the rest of the day.” Alfred informed them. “I will not have sleep deprived, partied out, grooms on their wedding day. It would raise too many questions.”

            “Al let’s be reasonable. I just got married.” Bruce moaned as he pulled John back into his arms chuckling softly as they rested their foreheads together. “I’m not in the mood to be separated so soon.”

            Alfred shook his head. “I must insist. You have a meeting with Lex Corp.”

            “Boring!” John announced with a wicked gleam in his eye. Bruce winked at him

            “Then the board wants to throw you a congratulations party.”

            “Great.” Bruce winced. John rubbed his lower back in sympathy.

            “Your bowling league has also requested you turn up for a quick drink.” Alfred finished.

            John wouldn’t see Bruce all day let alone consummate his marriage. He let out a long tortured sigh.

            “Al you’re killing me here.” John moaned piteously as Tiffany and Gordon chuckled.

            “As for you Master John,” Al rounded on him, “you have the final fitting, several last minute decisions to make and gifts to sort.”

            “All ready? The wedding is tomorrow.” John grumbled.

            “You need to have the gifts transferred to Wayne 3 for opening during the honeymoon.” Alfred informed him. “I have the acceptable responses printed out and ready to be mailed once you and Master Bruce have viewed all the gifts.”

            John sighed, he was on Dick’s side, this was ridiculous.

            “Can we at least say a proper good bye Al?” Bruce asked. Alfred narrowed his eyes.

            “I expect you to keep it clean Master Bruce.” Alfred instructed.

            John held up his hand. “Scouts honor.”

            They waved good bye at the steps to Gordon and Tiffany. Dick was going down to the cave to make sure Gotham was good for the night. Alfred was organizing his own private army of caterers, eight piece orchestra, the lighting coordinator, the wedding coordinator, the rental company for the tents, decorations, and the florist was arriving with the baker. Each had smaller armies of their own and several demands.

            While he shouted instructions at the people assembled John escorted Bruce down the front steps where his Lexus waited.

            He held John’s hands loosely in his own. “I know we get to spend the rest of our lives together.”

            “That’s a given.”

            “But I just…”

            “Can’t let go.” John finished for him entwining their fingers and holding his eye.

            The hot thrill pooling in his stomach was nothing new. The past five months had seen John bent over a variety of surfaces. The notable one was after one social event when Bruce hung him from the chandelier. Hell Bruce had him on hands and knees once the drive from Arkham was over. He thought time would dull it, the intense hunger dying out after the honeymoon stage was over, it didn’t.

            That ravenous need was more potent knowing Bruce was his and his alone. He was so fucking blessed it was insane.

            His conscious was giving him the thumbs up.

            “I should get to work.” Bruce mentioned not moving a damn inch.

            “I should sort gifts.” John remarked mesmerized by the look in his eye.

            Bruce cleared his throat. “Have a great day Mr. Wayne.”

            “And you Mr. Wayne.” John’s voice was giving Marilyn Monroe a run for her money in the breathless department.

            Bruce leaned in and captured his lips. It was supposed to be a quick kiss. Then John wrapped his arms around Bruce and opened his mouth. Bruce inhaled sharply before yanking him up against his chest and rolling his back into the car door. The flood gates burst open. John angled his head to get more, mind and body on fire while Bruce thoroughly worked him over with his lips. Caressing the skin on his neck, biting his ear lobe while they grinded together wantonly.

            John leaned against the car enjoying being ravished within an inch of his life when his eyes caught sight of someone watching them from the library window.

            It almost looked like…

            When he tensed Bruce stopped immediately and pulled back.

            “Darling what’s wrong?” Bruce asked watching the blood drain from his face.

            “I thought I saw someone in the library.” John muttered leaning into Bruce. A sudden chill seeped into his bones, one born from a cell so cold it burned.  

            Bruce turned keeping a tight grip on his body to see if anyone was lingering there. They both knew the staff assembled for the wedding had been told to leave the library alone upon swift termination of their contracts. The grandfather clock protected the only entrance to the Bat Cave but with so many strangers around they took extra precautions. No one should be in there.

            “Who did you see?” Bruce asked studying John intently.

            “I thought I saw-”

            “Master Bruce!” Alfred shouted causing them to jump away from each other. “You’re appointments sir!”

            Sighing heavily Bruce kissed him once, ducked in for another before pulling a laughing John into the circle of his arms again. Everything people said about love was true. Bruce had been his other half, the missing piece and now that they were together they would never be apart.

            “SIR!”

            Bruce kissed his nose. “I’ll see you later.”

            John nuzzled the left side of his face as he whispered. “Tonight you can have anything you want.”

            Bruce’s eyes dilated. “Let’s start with that mouth of yours and work our way down.”

            John winked before sliding around him and letting his fingers trail over his stomach. As he passed Alfred the older man fell into step with him.

            “You gave me your word as a Scout sir.” He sniffed.

            “Al, I might not remember much of my past,” John smirked at him, “but I know I was never a Boy Scout.”   

 

 

 

 

             After such a lovely morning, walking down aisle to bind his life to that of his best friend, he was now stuck in a continuous loop of dropping gifts off to the golf cart and hauling them to the cigar boat where Dick would drive them off to the yacht. It was slow going but he managed to get nearly all the gifts on board for their run away honeymoon the day after.

            All that was left was the fragile stuff they just couldn’t toss willy nilly in the back of the boat. A Faberge Egg, a black fox fur coat. John held it up confused. _Seriously who bought this and who was it for?_ Two boxes that came in white paper with black bows containing some rich ass champagne, one very expensive painting from someone called Van Goh that Alfred immediately apprehended and last but not least a crystal vase with black roses.

            John hadn’t noticed that one before.

            That was weird. Why black roses? Did someone confuse their wedding with a funeral?

            Curious, the card was still on it. Alfred had collected all of them to write the thank you notes. Turning it over his heart gave a lurch.

            _Thinking of you- love Hugo_

            Immediately flash backs of a glass cell door, angry finger marks on his neck, and the throbbing ache in his arms assaulted him. It all returned as the vase smashed across the patio tiles stopping everyone in their tracks.

            Hugo Strange had been on the run since the GCPD shut down his joint operation with Waller. Waller claimed innocence and pinned it all on the unhinged phycologist. John thought they had seen the last of him. His head swam as he back up away from the scattered black roses.

            “Chuckles? Are you ok?” Dick asked poking his head out of the ballroom. John scrambled to collect himself.

            “Yes, butter fingers.” John giggled before he stopped himself. His chest was slightly tight. “Can you get Alfred to get a broom and collection pan for me?”

            Dick looked at the roses and then nodded his head. As he walked away John pulled his cell phone out and counted from one to ten.

            One

            Two

            _Ring_

            Three

            Four

            _Ring_

            “Hi honey,” Bruce greeted, “believe it or not I was just thinking about you.”

            “Hugo Strange sent me flowers and a note.” John swallowed as he hunched into himself. He used his free hand to rub bruises that were no longer there on his elbows. They were just bad nightmares that the warmth of July could chase away. It not Bruce’s tone had a soothing affect.  

            “I-what? When?” Bruce had slipped right into Bat. John could feel it in his voice, his dark protector was on the case.

            “Just now, he sent me twenty black roses and a note that he was thinking of me.” He left out the love Hugo bit. That was obviously meant to rankle his beloved Bruce.

            “I’m coming home.” Bruce announced.

            “To do what?” John demanded.

            “To take care of you.” John could hear his desk chair squeak.

            “You’ll do no such thing. If you react he wins.” John explained as he straightened. “Dick and Alfred are with me. I’ll be fine.”

            “I still don’t want you to be afraid. I’m going to send Gordon over to keep you company while they summon my car.”

            Five months back they had come to an accord. An agreement. If he was to be a part of Bruce’s crazy ass world then the world’s greatest detective had to trust he could survive in it. That didn’t mean Bruce’s protective instincts were culled. This was the first time John was actively trying to be stronger without him. He kept his voice steady.

            “I only wanted you to be aware of what was happening. You will continue on as if we haven’t spoken. Gordon can come over but I’m putting my foot down for a security team of GCPD.”

            “Fine.” Bruce clearly did not like _any_ of this.

            “Darling it was a bunch of black flowers and a stupid card.” John downplayed it but his hands shook. “Hugo Strange would be an idiot to come to Gotham. Not when you keep guard over it.”

            _Not when he knows how much you love me._

             Bruce sighed. “I’ll try to make all my engagements and be back as soon as possible.”

            “Take your time, I’m fine.”

            “I’m not.”

            John smiled. “You have to let me handle this. It’s what we agreed. I’ll be fine.”

            “I love you.”

            “I know and tonight I will prove how much I love you back. I’ll be sleeping in our bed when you come home.”

            “You’re not making it easy to focus.”

            But he managed to take Bruce’s mind off Strange. That sad part, it would take more than Bruce’s mouthwatering body to take his mind off that corner of darkness squatting in his memories. He would endure and focus on his tasks. They trained hard the past five months. He was ready.

            “I have to go.” John finished with reluctance as more gifts piled up. Alfred was running down the steps towards him with Dick hot on his heels.

            “Me too but if anything else happens, if it’s too much, please call me. You’re not alone darling.”

            John let that tiny spark of warmth spread over him like a tender embrace. They hung up shortly after.

            “Master John are you all right?”

            “Fine. Just Hugo Strange sending me roses.”

            “Fucking hell! That’s it, call the pigs!”

            “Master Dick language!”

            John held up his hands. “Boys, I’ll be fine. We know what to do.”

            The two exchanged a look before they nodded their heads in agreement.

 

 

 

 

 

            John was in his temporary room in Wayne Manor as the tailor finished the long train on his white coat. It was three feet leading up to his waist. It would match his white slacks and black vest quite fetchingly. Gotham would groan it was too blasé for him. They loved him in fun bright colors but John had a vision for his grand display. The top hat on his head fit just right and the gold bow tie was genius.

            Gordon was patrolling the manor house. The cops were stationed at all the access points.

            His phone rang. Bruce’s smiling face popped up.

            “Checking in on me already. I’m flattered honey but people will start to talk.” John snickered brightly.

            “People do letter else John.”

            Hugo’s soothing tones were barb wire against his brain, he screamed hurtling the phone away on instinct. It hit the glass mirror and shattered on contact, shards falling all over the ground below it. The phone was cracked but it was just fine. Despite the fact he could pick it up, he now viewed it as poison.

             The tailor jerked back in surprise as John stumbled back, tripping on his train before finally bumping up against the foot of the bed and sinking to the floor. He was shaking head to toe.

             All that time and effort in training was flying out the door.  

            “Mr. Doe, are you all right?” The older gentleman asked, alarm written on his face.

            “My husband, get me my husband.” John managed to force pass his shudders. Leg’s pulled up to his chest, heaving in air while in the midst of a panic attack.

            “You mean your fiancée?” The old man asked as he stood back and went to the door.

            “Yes, of course, yes. My fiancée, please hurry.” John remembered Hugo’s voice, it rang in his ears. Telling him the pills were a lie, telling him to embrace the monster he truly was. John checked the time, he still had a full two hours before the next dose. He couldn’t take it ahead of time. It could potentially kill him.

            “Chuckles what the hell- _are you ok?_ ” Dick asked voice aghast once he caught sight of the mirror shards. He rushed over and gently grasped John by his shoulders. “Did Strange contact you again?”

            “He called. I thought it was Bruce. It was his number.” John’s eyes darted around the room as if Hugo could pop out at any second to drag him back to hell. “Can you ask him to come?”

            “Of course.” Dick assured him as he sat down and pulled out his phone. His brow furrowed.

            “What is it?” John asked heart starting to jack hammer in his chest.

            “No service. Come on let’s try the landline.” Dick climbed to his feet and pulled John to his.

            The lights went out moments after.

            “Ok I’ve seen enough slasher flicks-”

            John put a hand around Dick’s mouth and dragged him behind the dressing screen.

            He could hear the door slowly start to creak open.

            Alfred would announce himself, the staff would be confused and bump into the doorway. This person knew their way around the manor and they didn’t want to get caught.

            In dark he stood on the stool, arms wrapped protectively around Dick as his heart raced. Dick clutched at his stomach. The floor boards creaked as the person moved around the room searching for them in the night. John felt Dick pull a Batarang out of his jean pocket. He put a hand on his wrist to stop him from giving away their position by throwing it blindly.

           “Master John? Master Dick?” Alfred’s voice was far away. The person standing in the dark room bolted, opening and slamming the door making John jump from the noise. A light appeared moments later as John sank to his knees in relief.

           Alfred.

           “Master John? Are you alright sir?” Alfred put an arm around him.

           “Someone was in the room Al. We need to put Purple protocol into action!” Dick whispered. Alfred nodded his head and yanked John to his feet.

           “Come on, Master John to the basement.”

            Code word Bat Cave. They were fleeing to the cave and John followed them on legs made of jelly. All those preparations they made falling to pieces around him. He just couldn’t get himself together.

           “Can you reach Bruce?” Dick asked as they moved swiftly down the hallway, ignoring the other people stumbling around in the dark.

           “First thing I did. No cell reception and landlines are dead. Not to worry Master Dick. Master Bruce has several sensors that will alert him to tampering of the manor house. Now hurry. We’re almost there.”

            The grandfather clock groaned as it opened and they climbed inside shutting it tight. The lights flicked on Alfred took a seat at the computer and booted it up. It ran on a generator when the power was out. Video feed was live a second later. Dick leaned in.

            “Yup, Strange.”

            John nodded his head. Peeling back the night had revealed Strange moving around the rooms hunting him like a blood hound. He wasn’t safe, he felt trapped. As if Hugo could sniff him out and bring all his nightmares to life again.

            “Master John, I’m afraid I’m going to have to spoil a surprise for you.” Alfred moved to the side of the cave where costumes were hanging up. The fox mask and matching armor for Tiffany, the red and green armor for Robin. The third one was covered.

            “Master Bruce was going to give this to you tonight but I suspect you’ll be needing it.” Alfred pulled the black cloth off and John nearly had a heart attack.

            “He made me a suit?” John asked scrambling over to take in all the details. It was lovingly made and would fit his toned body like a glove. “But why? My Joker days are far behind me. I was never meant to be a hero.”

            “Bullshit.” Dick shot back as he came up behind John to pull on his armor. “Bruce knows you have it in you. Look at Strange John and I mean really look at him. He’s not a monster, he’s a man. The more power you give him the scarier he gets.”

            John hugged himself. “What if I freeze up?”

            “Then I’ll come and rescue you.” Dick shrugged. “If I fail then Bruce will rescue you.”

            “If he fails,” Alfred interjected sternly, “then _I’ll rescue you_. You are not alone Master John. We are here for you.”

            John was a little speechless. “Thank you.”

            “No problem. Now try it on!” Dick encouraged holding up the two piece suit. “Bruce worked months on it, I want a selfie.”

            Grinning ear to ear John pulled all the pieces into place and put the mask on. A confidence fell over him as he attached the weapons. He could feel Bruce standing behind him, with a hand on his shoulder as if to say ‘I believe in you’

            Who was Hugo Strange next to that? John was not alone, Bruce had worked him into fighting shape and trained him well and if he was going to live in his world he had better prove he belonged there. Starting with their old acquaintance.

            “Nicely done Master John.” Alfred approved.

            “It’s badass.” Dick added before he hopped up on the hologram projector and pulled John into his first selfie in costume. Suddenly John caught sight of their quarry holding a phone to his ear.  

            “Quick question.” John said.

            “Yes Master John?”

            “Who’s Strange talking too?”

  

 

 

 

 

            “Gotta be a swimsuit model.”

            “Nah it’s that hot chick with the red hair that dresses like him.”

            “No, no, it’s the cat.”

            “Just what are you all talking about?” Superman glared at the Flash, Green Lantern and Booster Gold. He was floating down to the ground after finishing with the lights. Every time a league member was married they hosted a small gathering to wish the person well. Even if that person was the surliest asshole this side of the hemisphere.

            “Bats lady love.” Booster announced as if it was plain as day.

            “Don’t you have anything better to do?” Superman’s mother raised him right. Gossip was not a productive use of his time.

            “Don’t tell me you’re not curious. Whoever she is, she’s got balls of steel. Pun intended.” Booster remarked, bright grin on display.

            Superman refused to roll his eyes. “I respect his privacy.”

            Although if he had to bet good money, it had to be that sexy cat. If Clark hadn’t married Lois he would want the cat.  

            “What the hell?”

            Everyone stilled as they slowly turned to find Batman standing in the satellite, unimpressed as usual but there was an undercurrent of befuddlement.

            “Congratulations!” Superman yanked a red plastic cup off one of the tables and hoisted it. Several heroes lingering around the open area did the same. Hawkman let the banner drop.

            “For what?” Batman graveled as he looked upon them as if they had lost their minds. Normally he disdained the other heroes but Superman didn’t take it personal. He seemed to hate everyone equally.

            “For your wedding.” Wonder Woman said emerging from the crowd.

            “How did you know?” Batman inquired eyes narrowed. Superman sighed, as usual trying to be personable had back fired. They should have ignored it. 

            The Flash shrugged good natured. “Because you asked for a month off. You haven’t been nearly as insufferable as you usually are-”

            “Flash!” Superman abolished.

            “-and a month ago you were on the line with your caterer while you punched Gorilla Grodd in the face.” Flash said.

            Batman nodded his head. “Sound deductions Barry.”

            Flash beamed. Everyone else was jealous, he very rarely praised anyone for their work.

            “I was married this morning.” Batman admitted although it was hesitant. Clark was a little sad he hadn’t been invited. He loved weddings and he was very curious on who had managed to nab the dark knight. He was more subtle about it then the three heroes who were gossiping moments before.

            “So who is it?” Green Lantern insisted. “Some hot babe?”

            “A red head?” Booster Gold interjected.

            “Or someone you would describe as _puuurrfect_.” Flash finished. Superman wanted to knock their heads together. Diana put her face into her palm.

            Instead of ripping the three apart a rare smile crossed Batman’s face. “Someone I’ve been waiting for.”

            Superman flashed backed to a year ago. Batman had laid dying in the hospital wing of the satellite, a collapsed lung. It had taken Martian Manhunter phasing though his chest to stop the bleeding. It must have hurt like hell for the scream that followed made his ears bleed.

           It was Diana who asked him to retrieve the letters when the outlook was bleak. The league had a policy. They wrote letters to loved ones every year so no one was left wondering. Superman found three letters from Batman’s sparse room for the occasion. In a tired moment when his mind wondered his X-ray vision had activated and the last lines of Batman’s letter to one JD had finished with:

            _My wasted heart will love you always_.

            Superman honestly didn’t know Batman had a heart until that moment.

            Suddenly the alarms started ringing.    

            “Um, Bats you might want to take a look at this.” Blue Beetle brought up the footage on the monitors across from them from his position at the computer.

             There was video feed covering a large estate. The power was out.

             “Al come in.” Bats snapped a hand to his ear. “Robin come in.”

             No answer. Tension coiled through his shoulders as he approached the console pushing Blue Beetle to the side. “Call home.”

            No answer.

            “Damn it! Reposition satellites eight through twenty! _Call home!_ ”

            Everyone jumped when he slammed his fist down on the console when the realigned satellites failed to pick up a cell phone signal.

            Then the line picked up.

            “Hello Batman.” A soft baritone answered. Batman flinched. The man who stood in the face of evil, out smarted Lex Luther and fought with deranged psychopaths _flinched_.

            “Hugo.” Batman drew himself up.

            “Indeed.”

            “What are you doing in my house?” Batman demanded, anger seeping through his skin and washing through the room. Diana exchanged a look with Clark who shrugged. He had no idea who Hugo was.  

             “I was so hoping to make it to your big day but you moved the date on me.”

             “I’m going to make you spit teeth-”

             “Don’t make threats you can’t follow through on.” Hugo’s voice was clipped.

             “But I can. Last time it was you or him. I made the right choice. This time you won’t be so lucky.”

              “Speaking of him you should see John right now. He looks so dashing in his tuxedo coat and gold bow tie. Your little white knight off to rescue you from your loneliness.” Hugo taunted.

              A ripple went down the room as the implication hit home.

              JD, J as in John. Not a bride, a groom.

             Male.

 _Oh_. Superman didn’t judge. Wonder Woman stared everyone else down in warning. Flash elbowed Booster Gold hard in the ribs when he looked fit to burst.

             “I’m going to repay you for all you did to me by reclaiming what you treasure most.” Hugo purred.

              Batman did something no one expected of him. He chuckled. Deep, disturbing, dark chortles that echoed around the room and made Superman’s skin crawl. No wonder he never laughed, it was awful and everyone around him seemed to have an adverse reaction to the noise.

              “Oh Hugo, do you really think I’m so egotistical I wouldn’t train him to survive the worst my rogues could throw at him. That’s cute.” Batman shook his head disgust dripping from every syllable.

              “But-but-”

              “But nothing.” Batman interrupted, all humor vanished as if it was never there. “I entered our union with my eyes wide open to the dark possibilities and I will be damned if he doesn’t have all my resources, _all my training_ , to survive without me. Take care Dr. Strange. You’re about to have a _very_ interesting night.”       

            He hung up before fingers flew across the keyboard. A moment later a hologram appeared across the top of the console as the tension left his shoulders. 

            “Hello honey, I _love_ your wedding gift.” The voice was raspy. The smile bright red. The purple boots went up to his thighs were they ended in little jester bell designs flushed tight to the green leather. Green body suit up to his biceps and neck that zipped together at his throat. A matching purple coat tight across his upper back and latched together by buckles on his left shoulder. The bat symbol in black on the long sleeves. The domino mask disguised his eyes. His black hair was slicked back. He was armed with seven knives. Two medium ones on his hips, two small ones strapped to his ankles and two at the wrists, and one large one behind his back. They all had smiles across the blade.

            “How are you feeling?” Batman asked reaching out to cover the flicker fingers as if he could touch the person on the other end.

            The hologram jester sat up in a fluid motion striking a pose by crossing one long leg over the other and shooting Batman a coy look over his shoulder. “Better now that I have this.”

            “Chuckles stop flirting and get off the line! We’ve got a maniac to hunt!” A young voice called over the channel in excitement.

            Superman’s eyebrows rose. They had a kid?

            The hologram pouted before he turned on his left side and cupped Batman’s jaw. “Enjoy your bowling league.”  

            “Enjoy your new toy. I’ll be home shortly.” Batman tuned his head into the touch.

            “One thing,” the jester pointed at his head, “black?”

            “Unfortunately but necessary. You can change it to bubble gum pink if you want.”

            “Truly?” The jester’s grin could devour the world.

            “Red, blue, anything but your ‘normal’ hair color darling. Robin has the spray ingredients to play with.”

            “You think of everything.” The jester rolled to his feet and pulled a knife. “And we’ve left our guest unattended for far too long. Do you think he’s the proper amount of scared?”

            Batman’s smile was vicious. “Terrified. Have fun, and save a little for me. I owe him for the last time we crossed paths.”

            The hologram blew a kiss before it faded away. Batman turned around and clapped Superman on the shoulder.

            “I assume you have questions.”

            “So _many, many_ , questions.” Booster Gold answered as Batman shot him a withering look.

            “No, no we don’t. It’s-uh-good to finally meet him. He seems nice.” Superman was floundering a little. God why couldn’t Gothamites be normal.

            “Where did you two meet?” Diana asked saving the Superman from further embarrassment.

            “In Arkham.”

            “Figures.” Green Lantern mumbled and Clark shot him a look. This was the first time Batman was opening up to them. He did not want him to shut down.

            “We would love to hear more.” Superman encouraged before he put a hand on Booster Gold and Green Lantern’s shoulders in warning. He squeezed slightly so they understood how important this moment was and to _shut up_ and listen.

            “He saved me.” Batman almost looked human when he smiled. “And he’s been saving me ever since.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

            “Ok so what do we do first?” Dick was twirling his staff around. He still had what John and Bruce called his ‘emotional support’ knife strapped to his left thigh but Bruce was slowly weening him away from using it.

            “Restoring power is priority one.” Alfred suggested as he took a seat at the monitor.

            “And priority two?”

            “Kick the shit out that party crasher. Do you know how many plans have been ruined by this nonsense? It’ll take a miracle for the wedding to proceed.” Alfred was deeply affronted. John wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind and squeezed gently.

            “If anyone can do it. You can. The urgent problem is Hugo Strange. He’s wearing night vision goggles.” John remarked as he stood up.

            “So are we.” Dick tapped John’s domino mask as the bright lights became bright and the darkness easily visible.

            This gave John a good idea.

            “Hugo wants me.” He announced. He said as such when he was talking to Bruce. How it angered him to hear the fear in Batman’s voice. No matter, John would kiss it all away when Bruce came home that night. “He can have me. Just be ready with the power when it comes time.”

            “How will I know when it’s time to flip the switch?” Dick asked as he started to scale the left wall to sneak into the manor.

            “You’ll know.”

 

 

 

 

 

            Hugo found John quivering in the dark. His white wedding tuxedo jacket train spread out before him. Good God was his hair pink? Hugo ignored that ridiculous fact as he observed Mr. Doe huddled against the back wall of the library whimpering. He could feel the power rise up in him. He would be everything Bruce was not. He was the night and the darkness was good to him. Giving him the cover he needed to do his work. Harley took care of the rest. He pulled a gun as he approached.

            Hugo admired Bruce, his body, he mind, his wealth, and his life. There was one thing he couldn’t understand. Bruce’s sexual desire for John Doe. While thin and striking John might be, men were not Hugo’s normal form of arousal. He tried to envision touching John’s body but the idea repulsed him too much. How the strongest man of their generation ever ended up with such a poor mate was beyond him. John was weak, abnormal and just crazy. All it took were some flowers and a phone call to unravel him. How on earth did Bruce think he could Batman if he was constantly standing guard over _that?_

            Closing the distance he cocked the trigger. He was going to finally crack the mask. Break the Batman and what came for him would be legend.

            “Shhhhhh I’m here to end the suffering. It’s ok John.” Hugo soothed as he walked closer.

            Batman was bluffing, there was no one here but a broken man.

            John stopped whimpering and stood, the folds of his white coat dropping around his shoulders to reveal bright purple and a red smile.

            “I know it is. Go on short round! Light it up!”

            The world exploded into light searing the inside of his eyes. He ripped the night vision goggles from his face as John Doe landed a punch. He stumbled back from the throbbing blow.

            _WHAM_

            He hit the couch and fell down. The gun skidding across the floor out of reach.  

            A well placed kick to his groin had him folded up clutching his aching balls. A kick to the head sent him reeling. All the power he believed he had, all the strength was gone. He glanced at John standing in his Jester clothes and his awful smile bright. He popped a hip on the chair across from him as if to invite him to sit. All long legs and arms, made longer by the clothes he wore. It did not escape Hugo’s attention that John didn’t even pull a knife for their fight. So confident in his victory he chose to treat their duel with his knuckles. He was _holding back_.

            “Don’t worry doc. It’s gonna be ok.” John sneered taking his words and soundly slapping them across his face. 

            Hugo quit the game. This wasn’t going to plan and he scrambled to his feet running for the door. It opened as Batman calmly walked in.

            “I do believe I owe you for all you did to my husband.”

            He gently pulled door shut.  

 

 

 

 

 

            “Mr. Doe, we’ve apprehended the suspect. You were lucky, Batman might have saved your life tonight.” The police officer reported.

            John was sitting at his vanity. It was comprised not of wood but mirrors. The surface was filled with cosmetics, creams and cologne. He calmly pulled a brush through his green locks keeping an eye on the man standing in their room. He was wearing a green dressing gown with gold dragons in flight across the silken material. The same one the police found him in when they barged into the master bedroom.   

            Bruce pushed past security frantic. “Darling, oh thank goodness.”

            John smirked at his over acting and held out his arms. Bruce kneeled to fill the space and held tightly.

            Pulling back John said with a straight face. “Thank God for Batman, he saved my life. Poor Hugo Strange was spitting blood and teeth when he was done.”

            Bruce bit his lip as he nodded his head. “Thank God for him. I heard Hugo’s balls might never recovery.”

            John barely suppressed the peals of laughter at that one. He arched an eyebrow, _really Bruce?_

            Bruce’s smile was positively evil. _Yes dear. Couldn’t help myself._

John’s conscious was making gestures about holes and things that would fill them.

            _I hear you buddy. But not in front of the police._

            “If that is all gentlemen, I would like a moment of privacy with my husband.” Bruce remarked.

            “Your fiancée?”

            “That’s what I said didn’t I?”

            “Of course Mr. Wayne. Enjoy your wedding.” The policeman pulled the door shut.

            Bruce pressed a button on his phone to lock the door. John turned on his chair to face him, he leaned back elongating his body as he propped his elbows up on the mirror surface. Bruce crossed back to him and kneeled. He pulled open the dressing gown. He did so as if he was unwrapping a gift, slowly and deliberately he exposed the purple and green leather jumpsuit John had been hiding with his dressing robe.

            “You looked magnificent.” Bruce breathed as he took his hands and put them on John’s chest slowly unzipping the suit, revealing the pale flesh within. John arched his back into those hands, he gave a gasp when Bruce yanked his legs open and palmed the hard cock. He attacked, lips and teeth digging into his chest. John raked his hands through his black hair.

            It felt so fucking good after the hard day he had.   

            John unclipped the latches on his shoulders and shed the jacket. “I can never repay you for what you did for me. You made me strong enough to face him.”

            Bruce shuttered his eyes briefly. “I wish I could protect you from everything.”

            John understood the sentiment. “Yeah but then I wouldn’t get to see you beat the living hell out of villains that deserve it. That Batman is sure hot shit when he wants to be.”

            “I don’t know, that Jester had a great ass.”

             Bruce ripped the leather right off him, peeled his boots off in a hurry. They were both vibrating with anticipation. Let their marriage be consummated with the blood of the enemies fresh on their knuckles. John grasped the back of his head and yanked his mouth across his own as Bruce flung his jacket off. His button down shirt was ruined moments later as John nipped and licked his way across his collar bone.

            Bruce snarled into his neck picking him up and turning him around to drop him on his knees on the vanity table facing the mirror. John grasped the top of the glass as Bruce yanked the drawer to his left open. The hot splash of lube dripped across his bare bottom and he moaned when Bruce spread it _everywhere_. He skimmed the hot puckered hole making John shudder from the jolt of desire.  

           “Jesus look at you.” Bruce whispered in his ear as his fingers pushed against the pulse point on his wrists. “Heart rate elevated. Pupils dilated.”

            John _loved_ it when he deduced his responses. He opened his eyes and they locked gazes in the mirror.

           There was no one on earth that could look at him like that. Bruce threaded his fingers into his hair and fisted them.

           John shuddered, knuckles going white from his death grip on the mirror. “God damn it will you just stick it in!”

          Bruce pulled his head back to his lips as a finger slipped inside to wiggle around. John nearly jumped off his fingers. Pre cum dripping from his penis. “Touch yourself.”

         It was going to be one of those nights. He wanted more than the intense fuck he was about to receive. He wanted it to _last._ It wouldn’t if John was stroking himself while Bruce went balls deep watching in the mirror. Some things were too hot to bear. John yanked his head free.

         “No-no I am- _ohhhhh that’s_ \- not.” John’s thought process shorted out when Bruce pushed in, filled him inch by inch by inch. Stuff him full and he’d howl for more. He knew how to work John until he was in frenzy.   

          Bruce’s hooded eyes narrowed. He did not like to be contradicted anywhere. “I’m sorry what did you say?”

          John was gasping, wiggling his hips back to feel. Drag Bruce’s hard length deeper. Bruce yanked him to a stop. His back flushed against his chest. He caught sight of his panicked face.

         “I said no jerking it. I want to go longer.” John clenched his teeth while his body was screaming _yes_ at the top of its lungs.

         “I see.” Bruce nipped his ear then bit down.

         John let out an agonized moan as Bruce rolled his hips once.

        “Still no?”

        John nodded his head whimpering. He wanted to last all night long. If they kept going like this they wouldn’t last five minutes.

         Bruce’s smile was smug as he withdrew. Alarmed that he pushed him too far John whirled around on his perilous perch. “What are you doing?”

         “Honey, you said no. This is your punishment.”

         John might have lost common sense for five seconds. He was on fire, burning from the inside out and he needed to get off. It wasn’t a question. He lunged ramming into Bruce and sending him falling onto his back across the bed laughing. He wasn’t laughing when John straddled him and shoved him in. His back arched off the bed as his head tossed, his black hair spilling over the covers.

        “That’s it.” Bruce hissed through clenched teeth. He gripped John’s hips to raise him and slam him home.

         Despite his earlier protest to take their time, John gripped the back of his head, yanked him into a sitting position before leaning back and lifting his hips. They moved in sync. Bruce took John’s hand and wrapped it around his dick and John was too far gone to protest this time. He moved, swirling his hand around the head and down the shaft as Bruce watched enraptured. 

          Panting, the bed was making an awful sound as the headboard slammed off the wall, they raced for the climax. John’s eyes rolled back into his head, stomach clenched tight as Bruce fucked him deep, and setting off his orgasm as his hand worked over time to milk every drop out. Bruce had a death grip on his hips, he came with a grunt, jaw clenched tight against the pleasure rippling up and down his body. John collapsed across his chest spent.

          “I hate it when you boss me around.” John bemoaned catching his breath as Bruce wrapped his arms around his back.

           “No you don’t.” He grinned, sex spent and basking in the afterglow.

           “Ok, I don’t but this was supposed to be special.” John sighed. Usually Bruce pulled out all the stops for the big milestones. Tonight he seemed in a hurry.

           “I don’t know about you, but that was very special to me.” Bruce slowly got up and took his hand pulling him to his feet. “And round two in the shower will be even better.”

 _Oh!_ John grinned as he followed him into the master suite.          

 

 

 

 

            John Doe Wayne emerged out of the glass doors to the veranda, his long white tuxedo jacket trailed behind him, Bruce on his arm as the guests still standing from the party of the century flocked to the yard holding candles. They were lighting their way to the boathouse after dancing all night to a great DJ and now was the moment John had been waiting for.

           The start of their honeymoon.

           The band on the veranda played a lively tune as they waltzed down the grassy hill towards the boat house, the guests showering them with rice and cheering loudly. Alfred helped them onto the boat before standing back and putting an arm around Tiffany and Dick. Gordon hoisted a flute of champagne while his very pregnant wife wrapped her arms around his waist.

          Alfred had small tears in the corner of his eyes all day. Tiffany couldn’t stop smiling at them.

           Dick was shouting. “You better bring me back something from the Bahamas!”

           Bruce started the boat as John sat near the engine watching the glowing crowd and waving.

           “I promise!” John shouted over the roar of the engine.

           “See you in a month chuckles!”

           “Try to bathe while I’m gone short round!”

           “Fuck you!”

            John let out a loud laugh as the boat jumped to life. He stood up still waving as the crowd and their family grew smaller and smaller until finally they drifted back up the hill into the house to continue the party. Coming up beside Bruce he laid his tired head on his shoulders.

          They pulled up to Wayne 3 to find the concierge was awake and the captain was firing up the engines. Bruce held him close as they walked down the white marble stairs leading to the back of the boat where the master bedroom was waiting. Sometime during the party Alfred, Dick and Tiffany had snuck aboard to trash their bedroom. Black, gold and white streamers were everywhere. Bruce yanked them down and tossed them off the bed before pulling John into lap.

          “I gave you my gift. Now where’s mine?” Bruce asked kissing his jawline.

           John shuddered before stepping back. Bruce cocked his head in question. There was another reason John had asked Alfred to sneak over to Wayne 3. He pulled the walk in closet doors open and pressed a secret button near the lighting controls. The shoe rack in the back of the closet parted to reveal a familiar black bat costume and a purple and green one.

           “My gift,” John let his white tuxedo jacket fall, “is two parts of a whole. Just like us lover.”

           He reached to the left and brought out a file folder. He crawled back into Bruce’s lap as he presented the file.

           “Obviously the coat closet is from me. But I did some digging and this seemed like the perfect gift for someone who has everything.” John nipped his ear playfully as Bruce opened the file up to find a detailed mission debriefing. They had several back in the cave but Dick had been adamant, Tiffany thought it was spot on and Alfred heartily approved.

            David Acklund was a privileged white rich fuck boy who smuggled weapons down from the states to sell at the black markets in the Congo. He branched out to several notable drug smuggling groups. He was arranging a demonstration of his latest wares on his private island in the Bahamas. Some of the world’s most notorious narcotics providers were going to check it out. The who’s who of scum bags and villainy.

             Bruce’s eyes lit up in delighted surprise.

            “Honey you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped several octaves. He tossed the folder down and curled around John.

            “It wouldn’t be a honeymoon if crime fighting was off the table, I know you, and I adore you. If making you happy means busting an arms smuggling ring, several notable criminals, and fucking your brains out on honeymoon well gosh darn _I just have to try_ don’t I?” John smiled devilishly.

             “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” Bruce whispered across his lips.

             “Then why don’t you prove it.” John challenged and he pounced.     

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they banged. Again. 
> 
> LOL. Well that is it. I am officially taking a break before the next big project. I hope this chapter didn't put anyone off the story. It was more light hearted, more fluffy, and slightly naughtier, then previous chapters.


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